I Am James Vega
by Marie Sanders
Summary: Lt James Vega is a lost paragon. His past mistakes consume him, and he cannot see a way to return from the dark place he has fallen into. He wants to matter, to do something worthwhile, to be a hero. He wants to be like Commander Shepard. So when he is given the chance to help Shepard in her time of need, he feels that perhaps he can make a difference after all.
1. Chapter 1: Shepard Lover

The asari hostess was watching the game from across the bar. There was one particular stack of poker chips that was growing unfailingly with every hand, and she had her eyes on it. She was lounging over the counter top, pretending to be busy while the seedy clientèle leered at her. It was with practised ease that she displayed her body at its best angles, pushing out her chest and arching her back, aware that the skin-tight catsuit was concealing nothing. One of her regular customers brushed past her and gave her a brief grope. She smiled and flirted, but the act earned her a meager tip.

She returned her attention to the poker game over by the window. The lucky player had added another small fortune to his pile of winnings. The hostess had been hovering around him all evening. She could see his drink was almost gone. Another chance for her to draw his attention. She straightened slowly, smoothed down her lycra suit and adjusted her cleavage. Then she moved towards him.

The player had his back to her, so he never noticed her approach. He was the only human in the bar tonight – and almost every night recently – so he already stood out. But he was a little more interesting than the average human. The asari girl had never seen a human male with such broad shoulders, or such powerful-looking arms. She had not been aware that humans could grow so large. His muscular form was visible through the fabric of his shirt, and the way his shoulder blades moved when he reached out to place a bet was almost hypnotic. He had strange markings on his skin. Besides the deep scars of past wounds, he bore some form of ink art along his forearm and neck. The asari was fascinated. And, of course, there was that pile of winnings. That certainly added to the attraction.

She sidled up behind the man and touched his shoulder gently. He glanced up at her. She liked his youthful face and his bright eyes. She liked it even better when he smiled.

'Get you a refill, handsome?' the hostess purred, drinking in the sight of him.

And there was the smile.

'Nice timing, señorita,' he said. He handed her his glass. 'I like the service here.'

One of the other players seated at the table shook an empty glass at the girl. Just another bad-tempered batarian drunk – her usual type of customer.

'Just get us some more drinks,' the batarian snapped. 'Stop distracting the kid.'

She scowled at him, but then the muscular human beside her reached up and deposited a credit chip on her serving tray. She looked down into that appealing smile.

'Don't listen to him, honey,' he assured her sweetly. 'Your kind of distraction ain't hurting my game. I think you're my lucky charm tonight.'

The girl blushed and fluttered her lashes, before sweeping away to collect the next round of drinks. She kept one eye on the poker game as the bartender poured.

'Hell, yeah!' exclaimed the burly human. 'Come to papa…'

He reached across the table to drag in another pile of chips. The batarians around him muttered their frustration, and one of them pounded a fist down on the table. This only made the human laugh.

'What's wrong, guys?' he mocked. 'Even with your two extra eyes, you can't read a poker face?'

'Your taunts are really beginning to irritate me, Vega,' one batarian snapped. 'Play the game and shut up.'

The hostess received a fresh tray of drinks and hurried to get back to the table. She leaned in especially close when placing one in front of the human, making sure that her breast brushed his arm, and lingered for a moment. He flashed her another smile.

One of the players grunted and pushed back his seat. 'Gotta change up some more credits,' he announced gruffly, standing up.

'Next game in ten,' the dealer said.

The asari girl leapt on the opportunity to spend some time with the handsome young customer. She perched herself on the chair that the other guy had left vacant. The human leaned back and stretched out, rolling his neck and shoulders until they clicked. He cracked his knuckles. The girl watched him, and her eyes roved between his credit chips and his muscular physique.

'Is your name Vega?' she said, tilting her head coyly.

The man gave her a nod. 'Uh-huh,' he replied. 'Hey, thanks for the good luck, señorita. I'm on a roll tonight.'

'What does señorita mean?' she asked him.

'Just something we call a pretty lady where I'm from.'

The girl smiled at him beneath lowered lashes. 'I like it,' she said.

The other players disappeared into the smoky gloom to top up their chips, and she was left alone at the table with Vega. He took a sip of his drink. She noticed the glint of a chain around his neck as he lifted his head. Curious, she leaned forward to examine the silver tags hanging from it.

'What does your necklace say?' she inquired, unable to make out the inscription.

He put down his glass. 'Here,' he offered, gesturing for her to come over.

She rose out of her seat and slipped onto Vega's lap. He put his arm around her slender waist. His gaze travelled down her shimmering blue face and neck as she picked up the silver tags to read them.

'Vega, James,' she read aloud. 'Lieutenant… Systems Alliance…' She turned the front tag over. 'Are you a soldier?'

'Yeah.'

She glanced at the criss-crossed flame pattern that was painted on his neck. It continued down beneath his shirt and around his forearm. 'Is that why you have these markings?' Tilting her head to one side, she reached out and traced the pattern with her fingers.

He smiled as her touch lingered on his throat. 'No, these are just for me.'

The asari bit her lower lip as she looked him over, her face close to his. His eyes were a beautiful shade of hazel and they shimmered in the light. She toyed with the collar of his shirt that was concealing the rest of the markings.

'Do you have more on your body?' she asked in a low, suggestive tone.

'I sure do…'

She edged in closer, and with a seductive lick of her lips, whispered: 'You know, Vega, there's a VIP room in the back,' she whispered. She stroked his face. 'I'd even give you a discount, just… because I like you.'

But something had caught his eye and he craned his neck to see past the girl's head. Irritated, she turned to follow his gaze. He was watching the holo screen.

'Vega,' she tried to draw him back.

'Shh, hold on.' He strained to hear. 'Hey, padre,' he called to the bar owner. 'Crank up the volume, will you?'

The asari glared at him. What the hell was so interesting on the batarian news network? She saw the owner adjust the holo screen settings from behind the bar. She turned to find out just what was so fascinating that had made the handsome soldier lose all interest in everything else.

'…named as the rogue soldier responsible for the destruction of the Bahak system,' the reporter was saying, as images of the recent terrorist attack were shown. 'A former Council Spectre, she is said to have acted independently…'

Confused, the hostess turned back to Vega. He was fixated on the screen. She tried to draw him back with a flirtatious kiss on the cheek. Finding no response, she went in deeper, kissing his neck and shoulder temptingly. He jerked his head away and shrugged her off.

'Just a minute,' he mumbled, removing his arm from around her waist. He sat up straight in his seat to catch the rest of the broadcast.

'…without orders, working with a known terrorist organisation. Commander Shepard already has a history of hate crimes against the batarian people, most notably on Torfan a few years ago. There Shepard slaughtered a group of traders after they had surrendered peacefully.'

Vega was shaking his head, a frown deepening. The girl watched his easy-going face turn steadily darker as the news reporter continued.

'While the Citadel Council scrambles to denounce the so-called "terrorist acts" allegedly carried out by Commander Shepard, batarian officials are demanding retribution. Councillor Udina has publicly denied that the human Alliance had anything to do with the destruction of the mass relay. Batarian leaders are calling for Shepard's head…'

The other poker players were returning to the table. Most of them were watching the screen as they took their seats in preparation for a new game. A few of the batarians spat on the ground in disdain for the infamous Commander Shepard. Vega was very still. The asari girl could feel the tenseness of his body and could see the muscles in his jaw clenching.

An image appeared on the screen, the slow-motion video of a human female in military attire. The asari did not recognise her. She was fair-skinned, had short raven hair and a serious face. Her eyes were not the eyes of an ordinary woman; within them a darkness lived, and it was deep. She had been through far more than any one person should ever have to. She had seen things she would never be able to forget. She stood strong, but with slightly hunched shoulders, as if the weight of the galaxy was threatening to break her. One could not help but wonder what her story was.

'Let's play,' said one of the men at the table, shuffling a deck of cards.

Vega ignored him.

'Commander Shepard has been apprehended, placed under arrest, and stripped of her rank and duties,' declared the news reader, freezing the clip of the female soldier. 'She is to be tried as a terrorist, responsible for the murder of over 30,000 batarian civilians. Human reporter Khalisah Bin Sinin Al-Jalani has informed us that the trial could result in a court-marshal, and that some are calling for the death penalty. The other likely outcome is that Shepard will be dishonourably discharged from the military and sent to prison for the remainder of her life. Either way, the "Butcher of Torfan", the "Destroyer of Bahak", will finally pay for what she has done.'

Vega took a deep breath. Then, gently, he lifted the asari girl off of his lap, placed her feet on the ground, and stood up. She stared at him in bewilderment as he left the table and walked slowly across the room. The news item continued with a pre-recorded interview with the human Councillor. Vega approached the screen as Councillor Udina's face appeared.

'We are shocked and appalled by this heinous crime,' the Councillor announced. 'Although Miss Shepard was not acting in behalf of the Systems Alliance or the Citadel Council, and neither body bears responsibility for her crime, we are determined to deliver justice-'

Before Udina could utter another word, Vega took hold of the television screen and ripped it clear off its hinges. It hit the ground and shattered, silencing both the interview and the entire bar. All eyes locked on to the young human. He turned back to his poker table, and the asari hostess scrambled to avoid his path. She fled to the end of the bar beside the krogan who owned the establishment.

'Hey!' shouted the owner, snarling at Vega. 'That's gonna cost you, kid!'

The human reached the table and gestured to his pile of poker chips. 'Take my winnings,' he responded simply. 'That should more than cover it.'

The batarians around him began to come out of their seats.

'That was an insult to all the people Shepard murdered,' said one of them.

Vega picked up his drink and knocked it back in one gulp. 'I'm not here to listen to a bunch of bullshit.'

'You don't think the batarians deserve payback?' demanded another of the gamblers, all four of his eyes narrowing sharply.

'You a Shepard lover, human?' said another.

'Why don't we all just sit down and finish our game,' Vega offered calmly. He was still standing up, watching everyone carefully. Some of the customers were beginning to advance.

The nearest batarian eyed Vega's military chain and realised: 'You're Alliance.' His teeth bared, sharp and dangerous. 'Just like Shepard.'

'Alliance types are all the same,' came one comment. 'You think you're better than us.'

Vega shrugged. 'Better looking, anyway.'

The flames of rage were being fanned. The batarian drunks were exhibiting signs of imminent physical aggression. The asari hostess cowered behind the bar, well aware that the room was about to erupt. She watched Vega with wide eyes, frightened for his safety. Didn't he see what was happening? Didn't he know how many violent batarians were gathering around him? He did not seem to be afraid, despite the fact that he was unarmed and faced with the kinds of criminals for whom weapons were as common as underwear. There was one particular batarian who was more agitated than the others, and he was reaching into his jacket for something as he bore down on Vega.

'We'll see how good looking you are after I'm done with you!'

There was a blur of chaos. The batarian lunged, a blade appearing in his hand, and Vega leapt back out of reach. With a frustrated roar, the attacker took a rush at him. The human soldier ducked a vicious slash that would have torn his throat wide open, bounced into a crouch, and came up with a shield of shattered TV screen in hand. The next thrust from the knife smashed through the screen, embedding itself in the frame. The batarian wrenched at it, but could not free his weapon. Vega took his chance, kicked the hand away from the blade, flipped the screen over, and drove the knife-impaled surface into the batarian's chest.

'Look out!' cried the asari.

Vega threw the dying man into the path of another advancing batarian, knocking him to the ground. Two more stepped over them and came for him.

'You can see your precious Commander Shepard in hell,' snarled one of them, 'After she fries for all the people she slaughtered, she'll join you there!'

Vega did not wait for another attack. He ran at the two assailants, head down, fists bared, and launched them back into the window behind them. The glass exploded. The three of them plummeted towards the promenade below. Horrified, the asari hostess flew to the window's edge to see what had become of the handsome young soldier. Upon peering down, she saw that he had managed to position one of the batarians beneath his own body to break his fall. The unfortunate victim was clearly dead, and his partner was seriously injured.

The girl watched with wide eyes as Vega lumbered to his feet, wiped the blood away from the gash above his eye, and stepped over the broken glass to meet the gang of batarians who were massing on the stairwell. No gun, no knife, no backup, the large human flexed his arms, shook away the dizziness, and broke into a run. He collided with the first of the attackers with a bestial roar, driving the batarian into the wall and cracking his skull open. Two more flanked him and latched onto one arm each. Vega almost broke free, but then two more men joined the subduction. The leader of the batarian group came to face him, savouring the sight of the pinned and helpless human. He took a swing at Vega's face, sending a gush of blood onto the ground. Vega wrenched at his captors, shouting. The lead batarian gave him a sinister grin that displayed a full set of sharp fangs and punched him in the stomach.

With a growl, Vega launched his body back against the men holding him, brought both of his legs up, and dropped a powerful scissor-kick into the chest of the one in front of him. He ripped one arm free and elbowed the batarian in the face, before taking out the other captor with a head-butt. He turned on the one who had led the assault – the batarian still on the ground struggling for breath. Angry and bloodied, Vega reached down and grabbed him by the throat. It was clear that he intended to kill him.

The asari girl who had been watching the brawl suddenly noticed a group of men approaching from the stairwell. They were human, dressed in the colours of the human Alliance military, and they were armed. The one at point was dark-skinned and tall, with close-cropped black hair mingled with grey. He was focused on Vega, and the asari saw him raise a pistol as he strode towards the fight.

A blast struck the wall just over Vega's shoulder. For a moment the asari thought he had been shot. He jerked back, releasing the batarian, and glanced back at the smoking hole in the wall that was the impact spot. Blood dripping down his face and one arm, Vega staggered into an upright position and faced the group of Alliance men.

'Enough!' barked the dark officer, sweeping his pistol in front of the violent rabble.

The batarians scrambled to escape, leaving behind a couple of dead bodies and a superficially wounded Vega. The young soldier stared at the blue-garbed entourage in confusion.

'Admiral Anderson?' he said, amazed.

'What in God's name do you think you're doing, Lieutenant?' demanded the Admiral. 'You dropped out for this? Drinking and brawling with the lowest scum on Omega?'

Vega blinked a droplet of blood away from his eye. 'I… Uh…' he fumbled. 'I don't understand, sir. What are you doing here?'

'I came looking for you,' replied Anderson. 'And you're a damn hard man to find, Mr Vega.'

The young soldier glanced between the men behind Admiral Anderson. They seemed like guards of some sort. He frowned deeply.

'Am I in trouble or something, sir?'

Anderson shook his head. 'I have an assignment for you. You weren't responding to Alliance comms, so I decided to come get you personally.'

'Sorry, Admiral,' said Vega, wiping a bloodied hand over his forehead. 'You came all this way for nothing. I'm not interested.'

The veteran stepped up to him and put a hand on his shoulder. 'Dust yourself off and follow me,' he said. 'That's an order.'

The men fell in beside Vega and Anderson as they left the scene of the fight. Vega, still confused, kept looking around. Anderson led him towards the docking area, saying:

'You're a fine soldier, Vega. You've got real potential. I'm not going to let you waste it all just because of one bad experience.' He clapped him on the back. 'You did well on Fehl Prime, Lieutenant – why else would we have promoted you?'

Vega scowled at the ground as he walked, a darkness growing in his countenance. 'Beats me,' he said roughly. 'That mission went to hell.'

'I read the reports, Lieutenant. I know how difficult it was for you. I know that you lost a lot of people. But you did what you had to, and whether you like it or not, you're a vital part of the Alliance military. It's time for you to get over Fehl and be the soldier we expect of you.'

'No disrespect, Admiral, but I don't want to "get over it".'

They stepped out onto the docking bay and Anderson headed for a small Alliance frigate.

'I'm not leaving without you,' insisted Anderson. 'You're coming back to Earth with me right now.'

Vega stopped walking and held up a hand in protest. 'I'm not going back, sir. There's nothing for me there.'

'I selected you personally, Lieutenant. You're a soldier and I'm giving you an order.'

He shook his head slowly. 'Sorry, but you're gonna have to find someone else to do the assignment for you. I've done it all before, and I don't want to replay any of it.'

The Admiral continued to the frigate's docking station. 'I've got something for you,' he said. 'Something you haven't done before.'

'I'm not interested!' Vega snapped. 'You hear me? I'm out! So just throw me in the goddamned brig and be done with it!

Anderson activated the door of the airlock. Unruffled, he replied: 'You're not far off, actually. Only, you'll be _guarding_ the brig.' He paused. 'One prisoner… in particular.'

The gangway came down. Anderson walked straight up into the ship, not even looking to see if Vega was following. The young Lieutenant glanced up at the vessel for the first time, his eyes focusing on the white letters painted across the hull.

_NORMANDY SR2…_


	2. Chapter 2: Fallen Hero

The ship was still carrying the Cerberus logo, but Alliance crew members manned the stations. The guard presence was heavy. The air was tense. Vega looked around in disbelief as he followed Admiral Anderson through the command deck, wondering if this really was the infamous Normandy. Every man and woman in the Alliance knew about the Normandy. She was probably the most famous human ship ever to fly. She was the vessel that had responded to the distress signals on Eden Prime, back when the prothean beacon had been discovered. She had flown her crew to safety amid the volcanic eruptions of Therum, outran the nuclear destruction of Virmire, passed the never-before-survived Omega-4 relay, and left behind the smoking remains of the Collector home world. She had carried some of the most noteworthy aliens in galactic history, not to mention the single greatest hero of humanity's interstellar existence.

The men walked in silence. They stepped in to the elevator and waited, with nothing but the low hum of the mechanism making a sound. Vega watched the display panel with rising anticipation. Deck one. The door opened. Captain's Quarters. He followed Admiral Anderson past a pair of armed guards into the room beyond the sign. The cabin was dimly lit, with the main source of illumination coming from the tranquil aquarium. The room was large, sterile, and blandly furnished. A set of steps led down into the main bunk area, where a double bed stood coldly against the far wall. A bedside lamp was on. Vega's eyes fell upon the figure slouched over the edge of the bed, hands joined by shackles, hanging down between military boots. Dark hair obscured the individual's face in an unkempt, boyish style. Pale skin shone underneath.

Vega stared. He could barely believe what he was seeing. Was this really…?

'Commander… Shepard?' he breathed.

She looked up. Soft light fell across her features as she appraised the stranger before her. But she was no stranger to him. This round, porcelain, child-like face with large hazel eyes and a pert little mouth, the slender shoulders and the tightly toned arms, the deceptive fragility of this petite form… it was unmistakable. This was the woman whose strength and courage had saved the galaxy from certain annihilation when no one else could. Her image had filled the inter-galactic media for the past two years unceasingly. She was a stranger to no one.

Her bright eyes flickered to Anderson, uncertainty behind them.

'Shepard,' said the Admiral, standing before the foot of the bed. 'I'd like you to meet Lieutenant James Vega.'

Vega remembered to blink. He saw the woman's gaze settle on him, and he gave her a sharp salute.

'Commander,' he greeted her formally.

Shepard's expression did not lighten. She looked utterly defeated, lost, alone, and so angry. She was the victim of incredible injustice, and it was painfully evident in her eyes. Without acknowledging Vega, she returned her attention to the Admiral, and said in a bitter voice:

'I told you I wouldn't try to escape.'

Anderson shifted uncomfortably. 'I know, Shepard. But the brass aren't going to just take your word for it – not after you commandeered the Normandy in lock-down two years ago. They want you under tight watch twenty-four-seven, and Vega is the man I've chosen for the job.'

'You're not staying?' she asked.

'I can't. I've got to arrange the defence case for your hearing. It was difficult enough getting the morons in charge to allow me access to you, and I almost had my request denied to put my own man on you during your incarceration.'

Commander Shepard stood up, still facing Anderson. Vega, seemingly forgotten, was struck by how small Shepard was in person. On the vids she had seemed so mighty, indestructible, larger than life. Never seen outside of her N7 armour, always armed to the teeth, ever ready, her daily life like an action movie, she had always appeared like some kind of superhero. Standing before him now was a mere girl. He could do nothing but stare.

'Anderson,' the Commander said softly, reaching out to take her old friend's hand. She gripped it tightly. 'Listen, I appreciate everything you've done for me. I really do. I know this isn't your fault.'

Admiral Anderson gave her a tired smile, forcing a glimmer of hope to shine through. It fell short of convincing. 'I will keep fighting this, Shepard,' he promised her. 'Just stay strong.'

'You may be fighting a losing battle, sir,' she replied sadly.

'I won't accept that. We need you, Shepard – not just the Alliance, but the entire galaxy. When the Reapers come, we won't stand a chance without you.'

The Reapers. A mysterious race of sentient machines supposedly responsible for purging the galaxy of organic life fifty-thousand years ago. Lieutenant Vega knew the stories. Every fifty-thousand years, when the races of the galaxy advanced to their evolutionary and technological peak, the Reapers had appeared from beyond Dark Space, obliterating billions, leaving only a few primitive forms of life to continue and repeat the cycle. No one knew what the Reapers actually were, their origin, their motive, or their purpose. Commander Shepard was the only living person to have actually spoken to a Reaper, and there were very few who actually believed her.

'Forget about me,' said Shepard firmly. 'You have to prepare for the Reapers. You have to convince the Alliance, convince the Council, get the races on your side. You need to build some kind of defence.'

'You know as well as I do, that's not going to happen, Shepard.'

'Damn it, Anderson, you've got to get those stupid SOBs to move their asses! The Reapers won't care that no one believes in them – they're coming anyway!'

'What do you expect me to do?' Anderson snapped. 'You were there. You've seen the way the Council dismissed your testimony. They doubted you back then, when you were a hero who had just saved the Citadel – you think they're gonna trust you now you're a damned war criminal?'

'I destroyed the relay because I had no other choice!' flared Shepard. 'I am _not_ a criminal!'

'Try to see it through their eyes, Shepard. You join a known terrorist group, stir up trouble in the Terminus Systems, then blow up a major relay, killing tens of thousands of civilians in the process. Yeah, you did it to stop the Reapers getting through the relay, but when nobody in the galaxy even _believes_ in the existence of the Reapers, that's a defence without a hope in hell of succeeding…'

Commander Shepard clenched her fists at her sides, her jaw tensing with the surge of frustration and anger. Lieutenant Vega observed in awkward silence. He felt like he was imposing, but there was nowhere for him to go, and he had not been dismissed. He watched Anderson and Shepard stare down at the ground in silence. He wondered what was going to happen. He wondered why he was here.

The Admiral straightened his suit jacket and took a deep breath. 'I have to get up to the bridge,' he announced wearily. 'We'll be leaving orbit soon.'

Shepard nodded. She glanced at Vega, as if she was only now noticing he was there. Her eyes skimmed his entire form, focused on the gash above his eye, and traced the line of blood that was dripping onto the floor.

'What did you do to him?' she asked Anderson half-amused.

Anderson smiled. 'He needed some convincing to take the job.'

Vega caught the flow of blood with his hand, looking down at the stain on the carpet. 'Hey,' he protested, 'don't take credit for someone else's work, Admiral. No way did I get messed up by you.'

The Commander gestured for Vega to leave, shooing him towards the door. 'Go get patched up in the med-bay,' she said. 'I don't want you bleeding all over my cabin.'

'Yes, ma'am.'

The two men walked away, leaving Shepard alone in the room that had become her cell. Vega felt a pang of guilt as he stepped outside. The Commander didn't deserve this. If this was galactic justice, then he wasn't even sure he wanted to be on the side of justice any more. Handcuffs? Armed guards at the door? Were they really necessary? The indignity of her situation was maddening.

They entered the elevator and Anderson paused, holding off on pressing the button. He faced Vega seriously.

'Lieutenant, I can see that you hold Shepard in high esteem,' he said. 'But you should remember that she's not your CO any more. I can't have you obeying your prisoner.'

Vega stared at him, surprised. 'But, sir-'

'By all means, take her advice to go get your injuries seen to,' Anderson continued. 'Just so long as you understand that she can't give orders.'

The young man frowned, concern crossing his scarred face. 'Permission to speak freely, Admiral,' he requested.

'Go ahead.'

He hit the door release key on the elevator controls and the doors slid shut, blocking them from the eyes and ears of the armed guards.

'This isn't right,' he blurted, the words rushing out. 'This is loco! The whole thing is. Commander Shepard saved the galaxy more than once, but she's been stripped of her rank and title, and clapped in chains like a damn criminal. While the brass and the aliens are all up in arms about some pointless trial, the Reapers are heading straight for us. It's totally messed up! You got me in here policing the hero of the century, while big evil machines are scheming to squish us like bugs – and she's the one who can deal with it! I'm expected to keep her from escaping? Hell, sir, I'd remove the cuffs and escort her off the ship myself the second you turn your back on me.' The Lieutenant rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously, heat flushing his features. He was drowning in the silence as his superior officer pinned him with his gaze. 'All due respect, Admiral…' he added. 'I'm the wrong guy for this.'

Anderson pursed his lips thoughtfully. He considered the young soldier before him for a long moment before responding simply: 'You're the only man I can trust.'

Vega's brow furrowed even deeper. 'Uh… didn't you hear what I just said?' The ridiculousness of the situation was beginning to make his head spin. 'Admiral, if you put me here, I'm going to help Commander Shepard escape. That's the bottom line.'

'James,' the officer addressed him frankly. 'You wanna know why you're the right man for this?' He pointed a finger at him. 'Because no soldier in the Alliance would have dared say to me what you just said. When I met you after Fehl Prime I felt like you reminded me of someone. That was the day you dropped out of the military, and the statement you gave sounded familiar. I read your files. I noticed something interesting: three words kept appearing again and again, in mission briefs, psych analyses, assessments by your commanding officers…' His dark eyes glinted in the light. 'Stubborn. Outspoken. Loyal. Those were the very same three words that had been used again and again in the files of Marie Shepard. The way you felt when you got promoted for Fehl? The same way she felt after Torfan. Soldiers like you and Shepard don't just obey orders – you believe in the cause. You do what you know is right, and damn the consequences. What Shepard did might have landed her in trouble, and it might have been a little extreme – might even have been wrong – but that's exactly what you would have done in her situation, and it bought us time to prepare for the Reaper onslaught. Without Shepard's extreme actions, without her conviction and courage to act outside of her orders, we wouldn't be here right now. No living person in this galaxy would.'

Vega was stunned. He had always been a supporter of Commander Shepard's choices, and he respected her more than any other Alliance officer alive. She was practically his hero. To be told by her mentor and closest friend that he was just like her was incredible. He couldn't believe Anderson was saying this.

The Admiral placed a hand on his shoulder, lowering his voice to a very focused level as he held the young soldier's gaze. 'James, I agree with you completely. I'd bust that woman out of here in a heartbeat if I thought it was necessary. But you have to understand something: the threat that faces us is not something that can be stopped by a single rogue soldier. I believe in Shepard, but there's no way she can fight these things alone. In order to stand a chance, she needs the support and aid of every species in the galaxy, all the governments, all the leaders, all the armies – working together to mount the biggest defence in history. You and I helping her escape isn't going to help. What we need to do is to help her and support her, fight for her, and argue her case. I intend to make the Council and the Alliance listen. I will _make_ them see the bigger picture.'

'And me, sir?' asked Vega, conviction rising in his eyes.

'I need you to keep her safe,' Anderson told him firmly. 'She is a target right now, from many different directions. The batarians want her head. She's got a lot of enemies, even within the Alliance. And she just screwed over Cerberus big time. I need you to make sure that nothing happens to her while she's being tried.'

'So I'm not just here to keep her from escaping,' he realised. 'I'm stopping anyone getting in, just as much as I'm stopping her getting out.'

'Exactly. I've arranged for you to have sole direct access to her at all times. No one else gets in to her cell except you. I have to be able to rely on you while I'm out pursuing her case through official channels. Do you understand, Lieutenant?'

Vega nodded, a renewed sense of hope and determination filling him. 'Yes, sir,' he said sharply. 'Sorry I doubted you, sir.'

'No problem, James. And… just so we're clear: no break-outs?'

'Sure. Definitely.'

'I knew I could count on you.' Anderson activated the elevator controls and set the car in motion. 'Now let's get off this godforsaken space station…'


	3. Chapter 3: Only Human

The journey to Earth was surreal for James Vega. Just a few hours ago he had been drinking tequila, playing poker, and enjoying Omega's exotic stage entertainment. Trying to block out both the past and the future, content to live in the moment and screw the consequences, there was no way he could have imagined the situation that he was about to be thrown into. He felt like somebody had pulled the rug out from under his feet. Not that it was a bad situation to be dropped into… It was simply the gravity of his new assignment that he was having trouble wrapping his head around.

All through his military career Vega had struggled to find some kind of purpose. Every mission, every assignment, every little victory, when it was over he was always left wondering what it had been for. He fought and killed because it was his job – somehow different to being a mercenary, but only just. Meanwhile, Commander Shepard was out making a difference in the universe, doing something that really mattered, saving entire worlds. Vega's mission on the colony of Fehl Prime had given him a glimmer of a promise that he would have his chance to matter, too. Far from becoming the heroic chapter in his otherwise meaningless life, Fehl Prime turned into his greatest shame. He didn't like to replay the mission in his head. That was where Omega came into it – the chance to forget everything in a sea of liquor and pleasure-seeking.

Let Shepard do the hard work. People like her could save the galaxy, while people like Vega were good for nothing besides hustling cards at seedy clubs. That was what he had resigned himself to.

But here he was. Given a position of authority over a person ten times his better. Specially selected to have sole custody of Commander Shepard during her trial process. Charged with protecting her. He had an opportunity that very few have ever been given: to make a difference. This was not the kind of "every little helps" job that insignificant people do to feel important. This was momentous. This was real.

After being fixed up by the ship's nurse, Vega had been called in for the official briefing. It was explained that this assignment would take place in an Alliance detention facility in London. There the prisoner would be escorted to the detention wing where secure quarters had been prepared for her. Nothing like the common prison situations on Earth, detention for Alliance officers pending trial was actually closer to being under house arrest. However, the seriousness of Shepard's alleged crime – plus her former ties to Cerberus – meant that her incarceration would be more constrictive than that of a usual Alliance defendant.

Vega was instructed to deny Shepard the use of an omnitool, as well as access to the extranet, any communications tech, all forms of weapon, and even visitors. No person was to step foot inside her cell except for Vega. He would be expected to maintain vigilant watch over her, specifically looking for any signs of outside communication, escape attempts, suicidal behaviour, or possible threats to her safety. He would bring her standard meals three times a day, collect her laundry and garbage, update her on vital details of her legal case, and encourage her to stick to a healthy routine. She was not to hear any outside news, or have messages passed on. The Alliance wanted to keep her in a bubble, harmlessly floating just where they could keep an eye on her, without the means to affect or be affected by the galaxy beyond.

An announcement came over the comm that Earth was in view. While the Normandy entered orbit in preparation to touch down in London HQ, Vega was sent to retrieve the prisoner. He felt strange on the elevator ride down. What was the right word for it? Not exactly nervous… Just a little unruffled. Speaking to an Admiral had been outside his comfort zone, but Commander Shepard was about ten times more daunting. He knew he would say something stupid sooner or later – probably offend her somehow, or show himself up as a complete _idiota_. It shouldn't matter to him, but it did. The kind of admiration he had for Shepard was unusual for Vega, and the thought of her having a low opinion of him bothered him. A lot.

There was no help for it. He had a job to do. Stop thinking like a girl and start acting like a man. He stepped off the elevator and met the pair of guards at Shepard's door. They saluted and stood aside for him to go in. The security lock disengaged and the door hissed open, revealing the dimly lit Captain's cabin beyond.

Vega pumped his shoulders, psyching himself up for his 'do-over' meeting with the hero of the galaxy. When he walked into the room he was stone-faced and stiff. His eyes were drawn immediately to the double bed. Shepard was lying on her back, bound hands resting on her stomach, face staring up at the ceiling. Vega felt his mouth turn dry.

She didn't bother to look when she heard the door open.

'Anderson, will you get these cuffs off me?' she said in a grouchy voice. 'I've been waiting to take a-'

She saw that it wasn't Anderson and stopped. A little alarmed, she scooted into an upright position and faced Vega.

'Oh,' she said.

He came to stand in the centre of the room, a comfortable distance from the bed. The silence was brief, but it was extremely awkward.

'Sorry, Commander,' Vega offered, giving her a quick salute. 'The Admiral sent me to get you. We're nearly there.'

Shepard nodded. 'Okay… Vega, wasn't it?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'First name?'

'Uh, James…' He was a little phased by the question. 'Lieutenant James Vega.'

'I'm just a civilian now, kid,' she told him plainly. 'Ranks no longer exist for me. I assume it's not a problem if I call you James?'

Vega shook his head, although the sound of his Christian name coming from the Commander was unsettling. 'Sure,' he replied.

'Right. So, James,' she swung her legs over the side of the bed and placed her boots on the ground, 'how about you undo these handcuffs so I can use the ladies' room?'

The Lieutenant glanced back at the door that led to the ensuite bathroom.

'It's not like there's a window in there I can escape through,' she added, noticing his hesitation.

'Yeah, I guess,' he said. 'Sure.'

Shepard held out her arms. He reached down to his belt to locate the handcuff key, then moved towards the bed. Standing over her he was once again struck by how small and delicate she was in person. The position had her looking up at him, and her eyes were shining with the ceiling lights. Vega knelt in front of her so that he could reach the cuffs. It was a weird moment, and he didn't meet her gaze. When the lock clicked, he stood up and stepped back. Shepard removed the bonds and placed them on the bedside table, before getting up and heading for the bathroom. The Lieutenant watched her go.

He felt his neck growing stiff – something that happened when he went too long without stretching it out. He rolled his head from side to side, round in a circle, and back and forth, until he felt the bones around his neck pop. Force of habit, he followed this with the crunching of his knuckles. He was still a little battered from his run-in with the batarians on Omega. Plummeting twenty feet onto a couple of dead guys can do that to you.

The bathroom door clicked and came open. Shepard stood in the doorway holding a small towel with water dripping down her face and neck. Her boyish hair was plastered against her skin, making her look even more fragile than she already had. She patted the towel over her face and deposited it back in the bathroom before emerging again. Vega noticed how tired she was; the lines under her eyes, the droop of her mouth, the sag of her shoulders. He wondered how long the Alliance had waited until they had arrested her after her harrowing mission in the Bahak system. Had she even slept? Or eaten?

Shepard let out a deep sigh, clearly glad for the brief refreshment that the cool water had given her. She pushed her hair out of her eyes and looked over at Vega.

'Okay,' she breathed, coming towards him with her arms stretched out. 'You can put them back on now.'

Vega retrieved the handcuffs and held them in his hands for a moment, reflecting. He had no choice, but it just didn't seem right. Shepard approached and offered to be cuffed. Resigned to his duty, Vega clamped the rings over each of her wrists. The first few pins left far too much room, so he had to adjust them to a smaller circumference. Doing so, he was surprised at how slender her wrists were – his monstrous paws completely swamped them. The cuffs locked into place. He stepped back.

Shepard stood a full head shorter than him, but it wasn't the height difference that was the noticeable part. His body was literally three times the size of hers. Compared to his tree-trunk arms, Shepard's were twigs. Her shoulders were little pebbles to his giant bricks. One span of his hand could have covered the width of her waist. Vega was used to being bigger than most humans, but this was the legendary Commander Shepard. If rumours were to be believed, she could kill him with barely any effort. The idea seemed preposterous now.

'Holy hell, you're tiny…'

It just came out. Vega cursed his big, stupid mouth. He rushed to append the statement.

'Ah, no…' he fumbled. 'It's just… you know, all the armour and shit… made you look kind of tough.' He realised how that sounded, and backtracked with lightning speed. 'Of course you're tough! Not like that either… I just meant… you're smaller in person that I thought.'

Shepard cocked her head to one side, one eyebrow arching. 'That's hardly surprising,' she responded with a hint of amusement. 'A krogan would look small standing next to you.'

'Hah,' he forced a short laugh. 'Yeah. Guess so.' A hand went unconsciously to the back of his neck. 'Uh, we better head up to the command deck, ma'am.'

'Lead the way.'


	4. Chapter 4: New Habitat

The Alliance detention complex was huge. What passed for corridors were more like ballrooms, vast spaces separating two rows of doors. Alliance personnel bustled throughout the complex, solemn and busy, varying ranks of men and women carrying out countless duties. The décor was soothing – mostly whites and soft greys – with plenty of artificial lighting and full-length windows that faced out onto the beautiful grounds outside. The English scenery beyond was breath-taking. Vega's vision took some time to adjust, after having functioned for so long under the grim fluorescent panel lights of Omega. Everything here was clean, bright, and efficient.

The entourage consisting of Anderson, Vega, and two large guards, surrounded Shepard as they made their way through the grand building. They had been scanned, screened, and disarmed, before being permitted to enter the main complex with the two Alliance guards leading them. Shepard walked without any touch of weakness, her hands secured in front of her, her head held up defiantly. It was only the bonds that revealed her prisoner status – there was nothing in her countenance or the air around her that would have given it away. She looked just like she always did whenever the public were watching: larger than life, completely in control. Vega recognised her now for the first time. This was Commander Shepard. Whoever that tiny, defeated girl was back in the Captain's cabin, that was _not_ Shepard.

A guard intercepted the group, knowing who they were immediately. He saluted – officially to Admiral Anderson, but his admiring gaze was fixed on Shepard.

'Welcome to the private wing, Admiral Anderson,' he said, standing to attention.

'Thank you,' Anderson replied. 'I was told that a special cell would be prepared?'

'Yes, sir.' A flicker of guilt passed over the guard's face. 'And she will kept in isolation, away from the other prisoners.'

Vega could tell that he was itching to salute the ex-Commander. He kept glancing at her, shifting uncomfortably, mouth twitching in preparation to say something to her. Vega knew exactly how he felt. But, unlike this obedient soldier, there was no force in hell that could have held Vega back from giving Shepard her due respect.

Resigning himself to the sad situation, the guard tore his attention away from Shepard and gestured to Anderson. 'This way, Admiral.'

They made their way into the private wing. There were an unusual number of security personnel patrolling the corridors, and it only increased the further they went. When they reached the door of Shepard's cell, the guard paused to enter a long and intricate code in the console panel at the side. Code confirmed, he glanced at Shepard.

'Commander-' he caught himself. 'I mean, Miss Shepard…' The words sounded absurd. 'Uh, I need you to step up to the scanner… so it can confirm your identity.'

Shepard nodded, no visible reaction to the lowly civilian title. She moved to stand before the wall panel and waited. Orange light passed over her body, took a split second to analyse the readings, and then flashed green. The awkward guard checked the display.

'Confirmed,' he stated. The door slid open. 'From this point forward, only three people are cleared to pass: Miss Shepard, Admiral Anderson, and the Lieutenant assigned to her.'

'This is Lieutenant Vega,' Anderson told him, motioning for Vega to step forward.

'Lieutenant,' said the guard, saluting.

Vega nodded. 'Hey,' he greeted him casually. 'So, you're not allowed in?'

'No, sir. No one else in this complex has the necessary clearance.'

'What about emergencies?' Vega asked.

'I will run through all the procedures with you in a few minutes, sir. First, we should secure the prisoner.'

"The prisoner". That grated on Vega's nose even more than "Miss Shepard". He held his tongue, submitted to a scan, and followed Admiral Anderson through the door. The guard waited outside while he and Anderson escorted Shepard into the cell.

It was not a cell so much as it was a cabin, about as large as a CO's quarters aboard a typical starship. One's gaze was immediately drawn to the large window that spanned the entire width of the room, providing a beautiful view of the London city skyline. Everything besides that was monochromatic and dull. Directly beneath the window stood a black leather double bed with an assortment of neutral-coloured cushions. It was partnered with a black armchair just a few feet away, facing out from the corner of the room. A small set of shelves lined the wall on its right, with a large bookcase beside that. As expected, there was not an extranet terminal or computer in sight, but a holo screen was fastened to the wall for the prisoner's entertainment. There was even a selection of videos and books nearby. Apart from that, the cabin had a drinks dispenser, a chest of drawers, and a writing desk.

Vega surveyed the cell with resignation. The conditions of Shepard's incarceration were by no means dismal, but one could hardly call the place cozy. He glanced over at her. Admiral Anderson was removing her handcuffs. Shepard rubbed her free wrists gratefully, and then took a slow wander around her new home. All the strength and defiance she had carried had been left outside the door; she had reverted back to the sad young woman whom Vega had met for the first time on the Normandy. She had the appearance of a caged animal, grimly inspecting its zoo habitat after living many years wild and free in a limitless world.

A lion. Dethroned king of the jungle.

Shepard wandered over to the bed, absently felt her hand along the mattress before moving past it. There was a door beside it, and upon opening it she found that it led to an ensuite bathroom. Vega watched her peek inside, glance back at the inside of the door, and then turn to Anderson with a frown.

'No lock on the bathroom door,' she said flatly.

'Shepard,' Anderson chided, his voice taking on a fatherly tone. 'This is detention. Your privacy is understandably limited here.'

The Commander sighed and closed the bathroom door. 'I guess I should be glad to have a door at all…'

Vega felt a pang of sympathy for her. 'Don't worry, Commander,' he volunteered with forced cheer, 'I'm the only one who's allowed in here, and I'm not gonna bust in on you while you're on the can.'

That really didn't need saying. He felt stupid as soon as the words came out. Shepard gave him an arch of her eyebrow, but said nothing.

'Lieutenant,' said Anderson. 'I'm forwarding you Shepard's schedule.' He activated his omnitool and worked his fingers over the holographic display. 'Everywhere she goes, you go.'

'Where am I going exactly?' asked Shepard.

Anderson completed the transfer and switched off his OT. 'Mostly interviews, pre-trial hearings, psycho-analyst appointments.'

'They're sending me to a shrink?' she flared. 'What the hell for?'

'The brass want extensive tests done on you. You're due for a full physical in about ten minutes – they've got to determine exactly what Cerberus did to you during those two years you were comatose.' He noticed her dark expression and added: 'Shepard, you can't blame them. For all they know, you could be a clone, or have some kind of control chip in your brain.'

Vega had to admit – if only to himself – that those possibilities had occurred to him, too. When he heard that Commander Shepard had been "resurrected" by Cerberus and was now doing their bidding, the only logical explanation seemed to be that they had taken control of her somehow. But she took out the Collector home world, she rescued countless human colonists, and she destroyed the relay that the Reapers were planning to use to launch a final attack. Surely she had proven that she was still the same Shepard who had stopped Saren and the geth two years ago? And how could the Alliance brass explain her severing ties with the Illusive Man? A Cerberus drone could not have turned its back on the leader of the organisation.

Anderson turned to Vega. 'The guard outside will show you the way to the medical exam room,' he told him. 'Don't leave Shepard alone with another person for any reason.'

'Understood, sir,' Vega responded.

'I'll be back later in the week,' the Admiral assured Shepard, seeing how unhappy she was with the whole situation. 'Meanwhile, I can trust you, right? You're not going to snap Vega's neck and make a run for it?'

Shepard could not resist a little smirk at that. She flashed the Lieutenant an impish glance. 'Have you seen this guy?' she said. 'No way. I'd have to make a shank or something if I wanted to take him down.'

'Sure, I feel _really_ safe,' joked Vega.

Anderson grinned. 'Be gentle with him.' He pointed a finger at her. 'And be good! Co-operate with the doctors and the shrinks and anybody else who has a say in what happens to you. I need you to be the model prisoner, got it, Shepard?'

Shepard nodded, a faint smile still brightening her features. 'Aye aye sir.'

The Admiral drew near to her and gave her an impulsive clap on the back hat was almost a hug. The affection between them was evident, and it kind of surprised Vega.

'See you soon, kid,' Anderson murmured, and turned towards the exit. 'Take care of her, Lieutenant!'

Vega saluted the Admiral as he walked away. 'Don't worry, sir.'

He was almost through the door. Shepard made a sudden step after him – a movement that was almost imperceptible because of how slight it was.

'David!'

Anderson stopped. Vega glanced at Shepard in astonishment at the abrupt use of the Admiral's personal name. His eyes flickered to the back of the man in the doorway. Anderson didn't turn, he just waited.

'Thank you,' came Shepard's quiet voice.

That was all. David Anderson did not need to respond. He squared his shoulders and marched out of the room, leaving Vega and Shepard alone in silence.

Vega did not want to look at the Commander's face, afraid that he might see emotions there that would affect the legendary image he held of her in his mind. Some say that a person should never meet their hero face-to-face. Vega understood that. If a hero on a pedestal was to be replaced by a mere human of flesh and blood and fragile feelings, then could they still be a hero? He didn't know the answer, and he hoped he would not have to find out.

He waited for a few endless moments, awkwardly awaiting some kind of sign from the woman a few feet away that everything was normal again. She must have sensed his discomfort.

'Okay,' she said, expelling the heaviness of the air over their heads. 'I guess we have an appointment to keep.'


	5. Chapter 5: Too Personal

The doctor was male. Vega hadn't really thought about it, but had just assumed that there would be a female doctor performing the examination on Shepard. The exam room was a bland and monochromatic set-up, with a single med-bed and a collection of high-tech equipment. There was a console above the bed that was awaiting input from the patient's bio-signs, and a curtain rail running across the width of the room. The doctor – a tall, middle-aged Asian man with a close-cut beard and curly black hair – was busy preparing when Vega and Shepard arrived, and absently motioned for the patient to take a seat on the empty bed.

Vega closed the door behind him and assumed a protective position in front of it, folding his arms across his chest. He watched Shepard climb up onto the bed and perch herself on the edge. Her boots did not reach the floor, but hung there, swinging slightly. The doctor finished whatever it was that he had been doing and finally turned to meet the Commander.

'Marie Shepard,' he said with a crisp British accent. 'I am Doctor Sharma. I will be running a series of tests on you to evaluate your physical condition and identify any anomalies in your system.'

Shepard nodded. 'I have a number of synthetic implants throughout my body,' she informed him soberly. 'Will they affect your scans?'

'I was told about those,' Doctor Sharma replied. 'The Alliance attempted to gather some intel on the work Cerberus performed on you, but were unsuccessful. That is why we need to conduct thorough inspections ourselves, in order to determine exactly what was done to you.' He accessed the console on the wall beside the bed and brought up some information on the screen. 'I have here your Alliance medical records, but they have not been updated for over two years. In addition to a study of your synthetic implants, we will be conducting a full physical.'

'Fine. Go ahead.'

'All right, if you would begin by removing all items of clothing…'

Shepard and Vega exchanged a glance.

'Uh, Doc?' said Vega, coming forward. 'What about me? I'm not supposed to leave.'

'There is no need for you to leave, Lieutenant,' the Doctor told him unfalteringly. 'Protocol demands that prisoners wave certain privacies that ordinary patients would have.'

Vega hesitated. There was a strange ringing sound rising in the back of his head. He cleared his throat and said: 'Shouldn't she have – I don't know – like, a lady doctor? And maybe a female guard could take over for this part.'

'We both have our instructions, Lieutenant.' Doctor Sharma seemed to be growing impatient. 'If you are uncomfortable, then move to the other side of the room and draw the curtain. However, if the prisoner makes an escape attempt while you are out of visual range, your superiors will not be happy with you.'

The dilemma was an odd one for Vega. Not usually one to shy away from the sight of bare female flesh, he was surprised how strong his need was to avoid this situation. The idea of the great Commander Shepard being forced to expose herself to a lowly grunt while submitting to an embarrassing medical examination… it was demeaning. He felt as if he would be taking away a part of her honour somehow. Seconds slipped away. The doctor was looking at him. Shepard was avoiding looking at him.

'Fine,' said Vega, coming to a decision. 'Use the curtain. I trust the Commander not to try anything while she's out of my sight.'

Shepard glanced up. There was definite relief in her expression, although she still seemed fairly nervous. It was an unsettling sight for Vega; only one day with Shepard in person, and he had already seen sides of her that he had never expected to see. Nervous was not one that he had had counted on.

He shook off the feeling and lumbered over to the other side of the room. The doctor slid the curtain out from its folded position and encircled the bed area with it. Vega was left to stand in the corner, unable to see what was happening, but free to hear every second of it.

'Take it off, please,' Sharma repeated. 'All of it.'

Material rustling. A zipper being drawn. Movement on the bed, making the plastic sheeting crackle. He tried not to visualise all of the sounds coming together. Unsettled, he fixed his attention on one of the scars on his arm and focused on drawing it with his finger. He heard the doctor's steps and the creak of the bed.

'Lie down, please.'

Vega redoubled his concentration on the jagged scar, now picking at it with his fingernail.

'This may feel cold…'

There was a faint intake of breath beyond the curtain.

'Just two more, and I can activate the scanner.'

A bleep sounded from the console. The doctor moved to investigate it. Vega heard the exam progress as it continued.

'Did Cerberus perform some kind of cosmetic surgery on you as well?'

'No,' replied Shepard. Her voice was strained and uncomfortable.

'Hmm,' said the doctor. 'Your file mentions some extensive scarring along your upper thighs, as well as dead tissue from second-degree burns in various places on your arms, deep indentations on your wrists, and long scars on your back. But I see none of these present on your body at this time.'

'Yeah, my skin was regenerated using a prototype technology,' Shepard explained stiffly. 'A new layer formed over the existing tissue. It's mostly synthetic and it heals quickly when damaged.'

'Interesting… I should take a sample for study.'

There were some more scanning sounds, a few shifts atop the plastic bedding, and some typing from the doctor. Vega found himself straining to hear.

'Right,' Doctor Sharma announced at one point. 'I think we have pinpointed the locations of all of the implants. There are also number in your brain. Do you experience any headaches, black-outs, dizziness?'

'Only when I get shot in the head.'

The doctor did not sound amused. He went on humourlessly: 'Any unusual smells since the procedure? Hallucinations? Changes in vision?'

'No.'

'How about your sensory abilities? Can you feel this?'

Shepard swore with a quick intake of breath. 'Yes, that hurts.'

'Good, good…' Sharma was completely detached. 'And your fingers, here? Your toes?'

'Yes and yes.'

'Okay, I'll just check your eyes, if you can look into the light for me… And to the left… And the right… and back to the centre again…'

The examination dragged on. Vega shifted his weight from foot to foot, cracking his knuckles, rubbing his neck, scratching his beard, as he listened to the doctor run dozens of tests. He felt his skin prickle whenever Shepard made a sound of pain or discomfort. He didn't like this. When was it going to be over?

'…and place your feet in either of the stirrups…'

Shepard swore again.

'I'll just put the swab in a container. You can sit up.'

Some clattering around with equipment.

'Now lift your arms up, please… Good. And just stand up for a moment… Right. Looks good. I'll just enter those measurements into your file…'

Vega saw the Commander's bare feet below the curtain hem, tiny and white with slender toes. He could easily have believed they were a child's feet. They pattered back and forth on the spot as Shepard waited for the doctor to give her the next set of instructions.

'It seems to me from preliminary tests,' he began, 'that you are in significantly superior physical condition now than you were at your last examination two and a half years ago. I'll need to wait for your blood tests and sample analyses to come back, but from what I've seen, you're extremely close to a perfect human specimen. It's remarkable.'

'Thanks,' Shepard said dryly.

'Your body fat is ideal, your muscle tone is exceptional, and your reflexes are spot-on,' the doctor went on. 'There is no evidence to suggest that you ever died. I would assume that you were simply unconscious.'

'Oh, I was dead all right,' she replied. 'I saw the medical charts. Can I get dressed now?'

'From what I can see, it's difficult to believe that you've ever so much as broken a bone.'

'We're done?'

'Yes, yes. Go ahead.'

Vega stretched his neck from side to side, trying to relax the tension around it. The wait had been quite stressful. He heard Shepard putting on her clothes and buckling her belt. A shadow passed across the curtain and then the doctor's hand ripped it open. The Commander wasn't even fully dressed yet, but Sharma did not seem to care. He was engrossed in his medical findings, his face buried in a datapad. Vega averted his eyes hurriedly as he caught a glimpse of Shepard's bare back. She pulled on her black tank top, tucked it into her cargo pants, and bent down to collect her boots.

'You okay, Commander?' the Lieutenant asked, blinking away the image of her body as if he had simply imagined it.

Shepard, her back still turned, leaned against the med-bed while she tied her boot laces. 'I'm fine,' she said shortly.

Vega noticed the screen above her was showing a map of the implants inside her body. Green beacons shimmered all over the holographic diagram. There were a lot of them. He returned his attention to the Commander, who had finished dressing. She was massaging her forehead, the strain clear from her tight features. She seemed rattled, kind of undone.

'Ready to get out of here?' Vega said, his tone unwittingly gentle.

'Hell yes.' Shepard shot a resentful scowl at the doctor, who was no longer paying attention. 'Was it good for you, Doc?' she pushed through gritted teeth, even though it was obvious he was not listening. 'Fantastic. Well, thanks for a magical afternoon. I'll call you.'

She whirled away and strode towards the door, every inch of her seething white hot rage. Vega almost jumped back out of her way, but then he caught himself and remembered that she was his prisoner. Carefully, as one would with a poised cobra, he edged over to the door and opened it very slowly to let Shepard out. She stormed through it, leaving a sizzling heat in her wake.

Vega followed his prisoner across the private wing of the detention centre. He had no problem keeping up with her pace, but he stayed behind deliberately. He pitied any poor bastard who crossed her path right now. Even unarmed and under guard, Commander Shepard gave off a clear signal that told everyone around her just how easily she could end their life if she wanted to. This skinny young woman in her civvies and army boots was quite possibly the most intimidating sight Vega had ever seen. He was almost afraid of her. Almost.

Shepard was stopped at the cell door by one of the guards on duty. From behind her Vega could see her little hands balled up into fists. He rushed to head off any unpleasantness.

'Just bringing the prisoner back from her medical,' he explained, stepping in between Shepard and the guard. 'We clear to go in?'

'Please step up to the scanner.'

Shepard and Vega took a turn each to be scanned by the security panel. Both bio-signs confirmed, the door hissed open.

'Proceed,' said the guard.

The Commander blew through the doorway like a typhoon, swept across the length of the cell, did not stop until she reached the far side, and slammed her hands into the window. She dropped her forehead against the pane. Vega came into the middle of the room. He looked up at Shepard, who was pressed against the glass like a trapped beast, her shoulders heaving with laboured breaths. He wasn't sure whether she wanted to scream or cry, but she was definitely holding something powerful inside. He had no idea what to say or do next. But Shepard answered that question for him:

'Get out.'

Vega hesitated. 'Uh… Commander-'

'Get the hell out, Lieutenant!'

The soldier in him turned his body straight back towards the exit. He paused for a second to question whether he should be obeying her orders, but then thought that perhaps this wasn't the best time to be asserting his authority. Leaving Shepard alone in her new cell, he returned through the door he had just entered through and watched it lock behind him.


	6. Chapter 6: Why Him?

The security room that was to be James Vega's home for the duration of Shepard's incarceration was even less comfortable than his prisoner's "cell". It consisted of a nine-square-foot space with a single bunk, a security console, comm terminal, coffee machine, footlocker, and cupboard-like wash room. The back wall was taken up by an array of surveillance screens displaying various angles of Shepard's room. The room seemed to have been set up for the sole purpose of guarding Commander Shepard. It was completely separate from all other security areas and holding cells. The lighting was artificial, without a sliver of a window in sight. The whole arrangement was designed for minimal distraction and strict efficiency.

Vega had been talked through the tech parts. He knew how to access the cameras, zoom in and out, toggle sound on or off – all the basics. He had a few pre-programmed contacts on his communications console, including a channel to Central Security and one directly to Shepard herself. The guy who had briefed him had explained that Shepard was only able to communicate with Vega, and that no one else could contact or be contacted by the comm panel in her quarters.

It was baffling to think that he had been given sole custody and control over the most important prisoner in Alliance history. None of the other security personnel were permitted access to Shepard. Besides specific circumstances outlined in the briefing, no one but Anderson and Vega were allowed to enter her cell. The responsibility upon his shoulders was rather daunting. He was sure that he would screw it up somehow, as he always did, but he was determined to try his damnedest not to this time.

Left alone in his cosy little cabin with his flickering screens, Vega activated the coffee maker and sat down in the chair at the monitoring station. He skimmed the various camera shots and located Shepard. She was investigating the chest of drawers over by the bathroom door. Since leaving her alone, Vega had seen video feeds of her leaning up against the window, silently gazing out upon the English scenery. She had not done much besides some pacing and some sitting. By the look of her when she had ordered him out, he had expected her to start breaking things. But she had held it together. Perhaps it was because she knew that Vega could still see her.

Her reaction was confusing to him. The med exam had certainly ruffled her feathers – not that she had been in a great mood to begin with – but the feelings ran a lot deeper than that. She was angry about the whole situation, sure. She felt the injustice of her predicament, and probably felt betrayed by her own people. If Vega had been seething at how the Alliance and the Council had dealt with Shepard, then he shouldn't expect her to feel any less so. Was that it, though? Was that the reason for the darkness in her eyes, the deep crease of her brow, the tightness in her jaw and the bitterness upon her lips? Vega's instincts told him that there was something else.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and held it between his hands while it cooled. He peered thoughtfully up at the screen that showed Shepard selecting items of clothing from the drawer. He watched her fold the garments over one arm, push the drawer shut, and enter the bathroom. There was no camera output for inside the bathroom, of course, so Vega wheeled himself away from the console and sat back to drink his coffee.

A few minutes passed. Vega finished his drink and disposed of the silicone cup in the garbage chute. He brought up his omnitool and checked the schedule that Anderson had sent him. Shepard had no further appointments until tomorrow. He guessed it would give her a chance to settle in. He scrolled to the bottom of the screen and read through the extra notes that Anderson had written there.

"Keep up her activity levels with daily exercise," it said. "Don't let her stagnate. Make conversation, get her talking. Morale boosters. Give her hope. She needs to be ready as soon as this is over."

Vega stared at the notations, his mind ticking. At least the Admiral believed in a happy ending for this absurd situation. If he thought that Shepard would be returning to duty to take on the Reaper threat, then there was reason to hope. Anderson was a smart man. Vega was inclined to trust his judgement.

He looked up at the array of screens, suddenly aware that Shepard was taking a long time in the bathroom. It hadn't been so long that he should be kicking down the door and checking that she was still alive, but just long enough for him to be concerned. Chicks do tend to take their sweet time in the shower, he reasoned. His brain sent him a mental slap. The word "chick" was not an appropriate way to refer to Commander Shepard. He decided to give her a few more minutes before he started to freak out.

Shepard didn't need a few more minutes. The bathroom door came open almost in direct response to Vega's thoughts. He sat back in the chair, relieved. The Commander had a towel in her hands, rubbing her wet hair briskly as she wandered out into the bedroom. Dressed in a dark blue crew neck tee and a pair of plain black trousers, she looked just like a civilian. Her bare feet padded over the cold grey floor towards the bed. She sat down on the edge and continued to towel-dry her hair. Vega watched her, fascinated by the sight of this super-human Reaper-slayer performing such an everyday task. He found himself touching the zoom button.

She let the towel drop to her shoulders and shook out her hair. It was a mess of damp black strands flying out in every direction, with quite a few flattened against her face. She ran her fingers back through it, pushing it out of her eyes. The camera was now quite close, and Vega could see the puffy dimples under her eyes and the redness of her nose. It looked as if she had been crying. It had never actually occurred to him before that Commander Shepard could cry. Perhaps he was mistaken, and she was just ruddy from the steam of the shower. That was easier to believe than the alternative.

Vega knew that she must be hungry. He wanted to bring some food in to her, but the echo of her sharp dismissal earlier was still ringing in his head. She had been through a lot today, and the proud soldier that she was had suffered more than one humiliation. The last thing he wanted to do was to invade her privacy any further.

He waited as long as he possibly could before he risked disturbing her. She had a couple of hours to herself, which she spent wandering the cabin expressionlessly. She didn't actually _do_ anything. Vega watched her circle the room, her eyes taking in every inch of the space to which she had been confined. She moved so gradually and methodically that she could have been counting the grooves on the flooring. The sight was baffling to Vega. Was that just her way of working out things in her mind? Was she mapping out an escape plan? He left her to it, grabbing a datapad and reading through the latest news headlines regarding the batarian response to Shepard's crime.

She eventually stopped. Vega glanced up from his datapad to find the Commander hunched up in the corner armchair. Her face of stone had softened and there was a hint of loneliness in her expression. She looked very tired – tired beyond sleep. Her knees were up to her chest and she was resting her chin on them, her arms wrapped around herself like a child. Vega decided that now would be a good time to bring her some food and a bright smile. She certainly looked like she needed it.

He sent an order through the comm for a couple of meals – one for himself because he hadn't eaten either – and prepared to brave the Commander's wrath once more. He wasn't really sure how to talk to her. He was a straightforward, informal kind of man, not blessed with the eloquence or refined social skills that many of his rank seemed to have. He often said whatever popped into his head, and that was not clever when in the presence of superior officers. Lowly, salt-of-the-earth kind of soldiers were his crowd, where he felt most at home. Even in such circles he often felt that he was the moron of the group, but at least men like that didn't judge. Commander Shepard was blatantly more intelligent that him, was older, more disciplined, more experienced, and could probably out-shoot or out-think him in just about any tactical scenario. What could he possibly say to someone like that, besides "yes sir" and "no sir"?

The meals were delivered in a box by a service mech. Vega took the box and headed next door to Shepard's cell. Still unable to shake his concerns, he jostled restlessly while being scanned and rolled his big shoulders to loosen them up. The light flashed green. The door slid open.

Shepard dropped her legs onto the floor and sat up at the sound of the door. She glanced over at him as he stepped inside. Vega saluted.

'Commander,' he greeted her respectfully. Holding up the box he added: 'I brought dinner.'

He came over to the corner where she was sitting and placed the package on the shelf beside her.

'Thanks,' said Shepard quietly.

'Don't thank me yet,' Vega said. 'I haven't tasted it, and I'm pretty sure prison food isn't that good.'

There was a tiny flicker of a smile at the corner of Shepard's mouth. Vega decided to take that as a good sign. He bent down and opened up the large box, revealing two smaller containers and two sets of disposable cutlery. The clear silicone containers were filled with what appeared to be some kind of pasta salad.

'It was a choice between pasta and fish pie,' he explained, when the Commander eyed the packages dubiously. 'Sorry I didn't ask you first.'

Shepard shook her head. 'No, it's fine,' she replied. 'I would have gone for the pasta anyway.'

Relieved, Vega handed her one of the containers and her protective-wrapped cutlery. He hesitated before taking his own.

'Uh,' he said uncertainly. 'Is it cool if I join you?'

'Go ahead.'

He retrieved the desk chair from the other side of the room and carried it over to the window, positioning it to face Shepard. He sat down and the chair creaked under his weight. The two of them unpackaged their meals in silence. The sound of the wrappers being ripped off of the knives and forks was so noticeable it seemed to echo throughout the apartment. Vega began to eat, avoiding looking at the Commander. The food was bland and unexciting, but it wasn't technically bad. Besides, he was starving. Shepard wasn't saying anything, and he didn't feel it was his place to initiate conversation if she had no interest in chatting.

He was almost halfway through his meal when Shepard finally spoke up:

'I've had worse.'

Vega looked at her and smiled – mostly because he was glad the silence was over. 'Yeah,' he said through a mouthful of pasta. 'Nothing like my _madre_ used to make, but it does the job.'

Shepard nodded, taking another bite. She chewed thoughtfully as her gaze scanned the Lieutenant. After a few moments she sat back into a more comfortable position and asked:

'So, James, where are you from?'

'Earth, same as you,' he replied. Then he wondered if that made him sound like he'd read all about her. Well, he _had_… 'California, ma'am.'

They continued to eat. The silence loomed again, but Shepard headed it off.

'I gathered you know Admiral Anderson?' she inquired.

'Just met him briefly a few times, and he was a guest speaker at my Alliance training graduation thing.'

'So you've never served under him?'

'No, ma'am.'

'But he chose you specifically for this assignment?'

'Yeah, apparently.'

Shepard seemed surprised. 'You look kinda young, Lieutenant,' she commented, scrutinizing him with an intense gaze. 'How old are you?'

'Uh, twenty-six…'

Her surprise increased. She had her fork in hand raised partway to her mouth while she sat considering the matter. Her brow was tightening into a frown.

Vega knew what she must be wondering. Even after Anderson's explanation to him in the Normandy's elevator, he was still questioning it himself. Why him? Why had the Admiral chosen him personally to be the guard of Commander Shepard? A young nobody with a bad attitude and a brick for a brain. Sure, he was good on the battlefield, and he could knock out a krogan in a fist fight, but what did any of that prove? Now the Commander was asking herself exactly what he had been dreading: What is so special about Lieutenant James Vega? Because he knew what the answer was…

_Nothing._

And when she finally figured that out, her opinion of him was going to plummet straight to hell, taking his scrap of self-worth along with it. Never meet your hero in person. Never let the person you admire most see how pathetic you are.

Shepard appraised him with her head tilted at an angle, her forest eyes delving into his soul. He did not expect her to say what she said next:

'I'm glad I've got someone with me I can trust.'

Vega scratched his head, completely lost. 'Uh, but… you don't even know me.'

'I know David Anderson. He wouldn't have chosen you if there was any doubt in his mind that you were the best man for the job.'

Wow. He was taken aback. Possible responses and follow-up questions passed through his mind but never reached his throat. He glanced around at a loss.

Shepard finished the last mouthful of her meal and tucked the cutlery away inside the container before placing it aside on the window shelf. She faced Vega once more.

'Were you stationed on Omega?' she inquired. 'When Anderson came to get you?'

'Stationed?' Vega almost chuckled. Nobody gets "stationed" on Omega. 'No, ma'am. I was there for pleasure, not business.'

'Shore leave on Omega,' the Commander marvelled sarcastically. 'Doesn't sound like fun to me.'

'Ah, yeah, not really shore leave, either…' Vega saw her quizzical look and tried to explain as briefly as he could: 'I was taking a break from service, kinda without permission. Admiral Anderson came to re-enlist me.'

'I see…'

Vega regretted his choice of words. Now he was worried that Shepard would think he was a deserter, or just an irresponsible kid who shirks his duties when there are good times to be had elsewhere. The Commander was thinking, and for a moment it seemed she was lost in memories. Then she smiled a sad little smile and said:

'He found me at a bar in New York trying to drown out Torfan with whiskey. Busted my ass, dragged me out, and told me: "Come on, you're my new XO."'

'You serious?' He stared at her in disbelief. 'You went AWOL after Torfan?'

'Yup. There's actually a vid from when one of those Westerlund News hounds tracked me down and demanded that I "justify my actions".' She winced. 'Not one of my finest interviews…'

Vega recalled a glimpse of a news item he caught once. His jaw dropped. 'I saw that clip! You knocked her out!'

She put a hand to her forehead, the regret over her reaction cheapened considerably by the smirk that was stirring at her lips. 'I think being drunk was just an excuse, though,' she reflected with amusement. 'I can't stand reporters.'

The Lieutenant started to laugh, and the sound brought out Shepard's full grin. It was as if he had blinked and suddenly the stern-faced Commander Shepard, ruthless "Butcher of Torfan", had vanished. In her place now sat a vibrant young woman with sparkling eyes and a youthful dimple on one side of her smile. Vega sensed the tension and darkness dissipating away from the room. The thought that his hero was even a little bit like him softened his unkind view of himself slightly.

'So, how did you get those cuts?' Shepard asked, pointing to the gash on his head that was drying into a scab. 'I could believe Anderson roughed you up… Unless you had a run-in with a reporter, too?'

'Hah, no, ma'am. Just a couple of batarians with big mouths.'

'What do they look like now?' There was a wicked glint to her grin as she said it.

Vega permitted himself a smug smile. 'A hella lot uglier.'

She laughed, a rich and musical sound. For some reason Vega felt happy to have elicited the response from her. He fidgeted in his seat with the awareness of a flush rising in his cheeks, worried that she might notice. Had he reacted like this with Admiral Anderson? He hoped to God it was just his self-consciousness from being in the presence of a great soldier. The alternative was not something he was ready to consider right now.

Shepard leaned her head back against the shoulder of the armchair and closed her eyes, the smile still warm on her face. Her slender form was beginning to relax, and the tension in her brow was fading. She exhaled a long and sleepy breath.

Vega could tell that she was exhausted still. He stood up, anxious to give her the opportunity to rest properly. Gathering up the empty containers and stray pasta pieces, he prepared to leave.

'You should get some sleep, Commander,' he said softly.

Shepard, her eyes still shut, made a small sound in response. She forced herself to raise her groggy head. 'Thanks for dinner, James,' she breathed, looking like she was about to fall asleep right there in the armchair.

He shrugged his response to her gratitude. 'Buenos noches. See you tomorrow.'

He left the cell feeling flustered and cursing himself for it. _What's the matter, Jimmy? _His subconscious mocked him silently. _You missing a cajone or two? Since when do you get shy around girls? _But that was just it: she wasn't a girl – well, of course he knew that she was female, but that wasn't the same thing at all. She had long since transcended gender and, hell, even species.

Vega did not consider himself to be chauvinistic, but he had learned that women are fundamentally less suited to war than men. The number of female soldiers he seriously considered to be his equal in skill and strength could be counted on one hand. The number of female soldiers he considered to be superior to him was non-existent. Shepard had never been among their number, but had instead been counted alongside the male soldiers in Vega's estimation. And she was top of the list.

It was easy to mentally place Shepard in the same category as male heroes when she was out blowing up things and wiping out sinister aliens, encased in heavy armour, stone-faced, without a hint of femininity about her. But that image now had a large crack in it, and the reality was beginning to break through. Today had been full of opportunities for reconsideration, as Vega had seen some of the lesser known parts of Commander Shepard. Up close, unguarded, she was very different. Nothing had surprised Vega more than the sight of her laughing freely. In that instant he had caught a glimpse of the little girl she must have been once.

He ambled back to his quarters, his mind awash with new information and new opinions. Just one day with Shepard and he felt like the universe had been flipped upside down. He could not help but be concerned about the days to come.


	7. Chapter 7: First Dance

The prisoner was up before the guard had awoken. Vega was not a morning person, so it did not surprise him to wake up to the sight of Shepard on the surveillance screen already dressed and halfway through her daily exercise routine.

He sat up in the compact bunk and squinted across at the screen with sticky eyes. The Commander was engaged in something akin to yoga, dressed in grey cotton shorts and a black vest, with a duvet spread over the floor in the absence of a proper mat. Vega stretched out with a wide yawn and cracked his neck from side to side. He squeezed each hand with the other until the knuckles clicked to his satisfaction. Then he switched on the coffee dispenser and clambered into the monitoring seat to check on the status of his ward.

Shepard was seated in what looked like an extremely painful position on the make-shift yoga mat, with her legs spread eagle and her upper body stretched out to one side. Vega watched with a wince on his face as she reached all the way down to her extended foot and held it in her hands. Her lean back arced effortlessly. The coffee dispenser bleeped. Vega didn't hear it. He slid his finger over the zoom button without even thinking.

Her bare legs were endlessly long, slender, but with incredible muscle tone. Even on the holo screen Vega could see the fluid curves of her thigh muscles and the swell of her calves as they pulled with the movement. She came up from the right side and rolled down to the left, stretching out to her foot as she had done with the other. Her vest top rode up as she twisted, and Vega was given an impressive preview of her trim waist. He had forgotten to blink as he watched, not even noticing that his eyes were sore from sleep and his throat had gone dry. No perceptible thoughts were passing through his mind. He was in some kind of time warp, frozen, unable to look away.

He saw Shepard return to an upright sitting position on the floor, and then she began to lift both of her legs up over her head. Vega's mouth came open. He suddenly felt very warm. The lithe female soldier continued her routine, contorting her body into all kinds of weird and wonderful shapes. Vega got an eyeful of her backside and the sight of it sent his mind reeling. The full, round, tight peach filled him with dangerous feelings that overcame his senses in one massive wave. It all crashed down on him. He jerked out of his stupor and snapped his gaze away from the screen.

He let out a long, hot breath. Shaking his head sternly with a mental warning to himself, he forced himself to go wash his face. A splash of cold water, a brisk rub with a towel, and he was awake. Pretending the last few minutes had not even happened, he went to grab his coffee and sat down with the chair facing away from the monitoring screens. With his free hand he fumbled blind around the console behind him for the news datapad.

Vega refused to risk another glance at the screen until his mind and body had rid themselves of every inappropriate inclination. That took a while. By the time he had collected the willpower to face the sight of her again, Shepard was gone. The bathroom door was closed. Before the image of those remarkable buttocks could fully re-establish itself in his mind's eye, he fixed his attention on the comm station and sent down an order for breakfast.

When Shepard stepped out of the bathroom she found Lieutenant Vega in her cell, sitting in the desk chair by the window with two food containers on his lap. Hearing her enter, he stood up, put the containers aside, and gave the Commander a salute.

'Ma'am,' he said politely.

Shepard had dressed in dark Alliance style combat trousers with a matching jacket and chunky leather boots. The standard weapons holsters down the trouser legs were empty, but the appearance was military nonetheless. She had regained the look of a soldier in Vega's eyes for the moment. Her short wet hair was combed back neatly out of her face, adding to the professionalism of the ensemble.

'Morning, James,' she greeted the Lieutenant expressionlessly.

Vega waited until she had taken a seat and then offered her one of the pre-prepared meals.

'Omelet,' he informed her.

'Thanks.' She took the container and sat back in the armchair with it.

The young man glanced over at the rumpled duvet that was now in its rightful place on the bed. He looked at Shepard.

'You know,' he said, 'I could probably get you a fitness mat if you want.'

She took a bite of her breakfast and chewed it properly before replying: 'Don't worry about it.'

'If you say so…' He opened up his food container. 'But, if you need anything, just let me know. Right?'

'I will. Thanks.'

Shepard's face was just as drawn and weary as it had been the day before. It was likely that she hadn't slept. But she was wearing her disciplined visage like a good soldier; not even a bow in her stature or a slump to her shoulders. She sat upright with a face of stone as she ate her breakfast across from her subordinate.

'What's on today's agenda?' she asked in a crisp tone.

'You gotta meet the shrink,' Vega informed her. 'Do a preliminary psych assessment.'

'Fine.'

There was a hardness to her manner that told Vega she was not in a good mood. He had been instructed to help her morale wherever possible, so it was kind of his job to ask:

'You okay, Commander?'

She inhaled deeply through her nose. 'I don't do passive,' was her explanation. 'I don't like lounging around here doing nothing.'

'Yeah, I get that,' he assured her. 'I get a bit loco when I'm on standby for too long.'

'It's been _one_ day, and I already want to shoot something.'

'Let's hope Cerberus tries to bust in and take you out. A bit of action.'

She smiled with one corner of her tight mouth. 'Sounds good.'

'We're soldiers,' Vega said, leaning back in his chair reflectively. 'We're built for action. It's not in our nature to hang back and let the galaxy turn.'

'Exactly.'

'Hey, did you know this place has a gym? And they won't let you out of your cell to use it?' His outrage seeped through his voice.

She rolled her eyes. 'That's just great.'

'If you want, Commander, I can help you blow off some steam while you're penned in here,' he offered, needing to be useful somehow. It was only after he had said it that he noticed how it sounded.

Shepard noticed, too. Her hazel eyes pinched at the corners with a smirk that had not reached her lips. It was subtle, as was the momentary flicker of her gaze over the young man's body. Vega was almost certain he had imagined it. As he said a quick prayer that the faux-pa would drift harmlessly by, she shone a spotlight on it.

'What exactly did you have in mind, Lieutenant?' If it was possible for a voice to grin, that's what hers was doing.

'Uh…' he blundered, avoiding eye contact, 'you know, sparring… ma'am.'

'_Right_… In that case, I'd say you have an unfair advantage.'

_In that case…?_

'Not really,' he responded. 'I know you've faced bigger enemies than me, Commander.'

She nodded, half to herself as she recalled them. 'All right, Lieutenant,' she said decisively. She stood up. 'You're on.'

'Now?'

Shepard pushed her barely touched omelet away from her. 'Uh-huh.'

Vega stopped eating. He watched the Commander roll out her arms and shake her head around, loosening herself up for what was to come. He suddenly felt a flutter in his stomach. He was going to fight Commander Shepard? Ambivalent emotions played tug-of-war with his senses; the exciting chance to facing such a skilled opponent, the embarrassing possibility of losing to a girl, the daunting challenge that an infamous war hero presented, the nagging concern that he might accidentally hurt her… She was waiting for him. Bouncing on the spot like a little rabbit, skinny arms pumping, she almost looked silly. Vega came to his feet.

'You'll go easy on a woman, right?' she quipped, dancing backwards into the centre of the room. There was a grin rising from her lips.

Vega laughed shortly. 'Yeah, right. Is that what you said to Saren?' Cracking his knuckles, he strode into the invisible ring that she was skirting. 'Before you kicked his ass?'

'Nah, that's what you should be saying to me!'

'Ay! Nice one!'

She flashed him a cheeky smile and squared up to him. 'Ready?'

He was about to go hand-to-hand with the first human Spectre. She was right in front of him, eyes alight, ready to go. And, _damn_, was she tiny!

The whole situation felt so unreal until her fist connected with his jaw. A shot of pain kicked him into reality. He drew back, clutching the side of his face in surprise. Shepard laughed.

'I asked if you were ready!' she said defensively.

Vega shook it off and flexed his huge shoulders. 'Oh, so that's how you wanna play it?'

He lunged. Shepard darted out of his path and struck out at his side, but Vega blocked it with his elbow. He whirled to face her, fist flying. She caught it on her forearm, parried his follow-up, and bounced back to a safe distance. Vega found himself laughing. She was quick. He maintained the distance and began to circle her, both arms up, fists curled but loose. Shepard made a dart beneath his guard and punched him square in the abdomen. Vega absorbed it, but was nevertheless impressed by the power of her blow.

They increased their speed in unison. Shepard threw a series of punches that Vega tried to deflect – one he foiled with his wrist, another took him in the shoulder, one-two against each of his palms. He saw a break in her attacks and went for the opening, heaving himself bodily against her guard to throw her off balance. She stumbled back but did not lose her footing. With a half-outraged laugh, she returned the move, both slender elbows slamming into him at once. Vega barely budged. He knocked one of her arms aside and dealt her a quick palm strike to the ribs.

Shepard let out a burst of air mingled with a grunt. She drew back one shoulder to protect her torso, and with the other she took a swing at Vega's face. He had been keeping his head back, so it meant she had to spring, her feet almost lifting away from the ground, in order to reach him. She only skimmed his chin. Vega leaned back even further, appraising his small opponent down the barrel of his nose.

'You're gonna have to do better than that, Commander!' he told her between breaths.

'I'm just getting warmed up!' she shot back, and to emphasise her point she pounded him in the breastbone.

'Ah!' he yelped. '_Better_!'

'What are you, my trainer?' She rained her fists harmlessly against his protective forearms.

Vega grinned widely. The little creature wasn't making a dent in his defence. He toyed with her for a while, dancing back and forth, collecting her blows upon his hands the way a father would do with a child. He was growing cockier with every passing second. Shepard dealt out her shots without much attention to aim or power. It was as if she was just trying to distract him. Aware of this, Vega was still confident that he could take whatever she had up her sleeve.

He side-stepped another of her double blows and got in a nice shot of his own, catching her on the side of the mouth. She wrenched back and licked her smarting lip, not risking exposing her torso by raising her hand. Vega's feet played across the floor as he gloated silently, the self-satisfied smile never leaving his face. Shepard aimed up high, coiled in preparation, and Vega reacted accordingly by raising his guard up to his face. But she feinted, and at the last second lashed out at his unprotected stomach.

Her fist connected with his navel with a shocking force that sent him doubling over unintentionally. Shepard took her opportunity, launched back her right shoulder, and struck him square in the nose with the momentum of her entire body. Pain exploded in Vega's face. He staggered backwards with an outcry. Hot tears blinded him and his nose erupted in a stream of blood.

Shepard retreated to a defensive position as she eyed the Lieutenant, but he had no intention of launching a counter-attack. Winded at his core, blocked up in his sinuses, he fought to regain his breath. Through his blurry vision he could just about make out the silhouette of Shepard hanging back across the imaginary boxing ring. She was waiting charitably, giving him time to recover. However, when his sight cleared he saw that she was grinning.

'_Santa Maria_,' the bloody-nosed soldier choked. He brought the back of his hand up to plug the leak. 'That was freakin' awesome. Where do you keep your strength in that micro body?'

'You seem to be all caught up on size, Lieutenant,' she retorted, titling her head. 'Is there a particular reason for that?'

Vega laughed, a burst of breath from his aching diaphragm. 'Trash talk from Commander Shepard,' he said in disbelief. 'I like it.'

Shepard marched over to the window with her head tossed back smugly, and dropped down onto the bed. She lay back against the collection of pillows, closing her eyes while she waited to catch her breath. She was smiling broadly.

'You done?' Vega mocked her, still fighting to curb his nosebleed with his bare hands.

'Thought I'd quit while I'm ahead. Besides, you look like you need a break.'

'Yeah, right.'

He tilted his head back as far as he could and pinched the bridge of his nose. It hurt like hell to hold it, but he ignored the pain. It occurred to him that it might be broken. He sniffed experimentally. No, not this time. He knew what a broken nose felt like, and this wasn't quite as bad as that. He glanced over at the Commander, who was lounging contentedly over the duvet, looking like the cat who'd got the cream. She peered up at him.

'Go put some ice on it, Lieutenant,' she ordered through a smile. 'Then come back and finish your breakfast.'

The words "Yes, mama" popped into Vega's head. He held them back. Friendly banter was all well and good, but this woman was still Commander Shepard. He elected for a grunt of acknowledgement, and then left to find some ice.


	8. Chapter 8: Shrunk

Doctor Arden was a lot like the shrinks Vega had met before. A mature, well-kept woman with a ready smile but no real offer of sharing her own personality, and she had that all-knowing look about her that many in her profession have. She came to Shepard's quarters in an Alliance medical uniform, auburn hair pinned up tightly. She showed Vega her badge that allowed her temporary supervised visitation of the prisoner. Upon completing a scan, the Lieutenant led her inside.

Shepard was sitting up on the bed reading when the two entered. She glanced up. Her face practically sighed, if that was possible. Not a fan of psychiatrists, it seemed.

'Hello, Marie,' offered Arden, striding across the room. 'I'm Doctor Arden. You can call me Gwen.'

Vega observed as Shepard tossed the datapad onto the bed, climbed to her feet, and faced the shrink with a decidedly unfriendly expression.

'You can call me Shepard,' she responded coldly.

Arden offered a handshake, but Shepard ignored it. Vega wasn't really surprised at her lack of enthusiasm for the forced psych session. If he were in her shoes, he would probably have refused point blank.

'I'll be visiting you once a week, Shepard,' the Doctor informed her, lowering her hand. 'I hope we can become friends.'

'Great…'

Arden ignored the sarcasm and gestured to the armchair in the corner. 'Please, take a seat.'

Shepard obliged, but she was not happy. Vega took up a position at the other side of the room, hoping that this would not be as invasive and humiliating as the previous day's visit to Doctor Sharma. By the looks of her, the Commander was not prepared to put up with any crap today.

The psychiatrist moved the office chair in closer and sat down a few feet from her patient. She produced a datapad. Accessing one of the files, she took a few moments to remind herself of the details she planned to discuss. Shepard waited with a face of ice.

'All right then,' said Arden, crossing one leg over the other. 'What I want to do is to get an idea of who you are, find out a little about you.'

'You have my files, I assume,' Shepard said.

'Yes, but I'd like to move beyond facts and figures. Your files tell me what you have done and what your commanding officers think of you, but not what _you _think. That's what I'm interested in.'

'I think this is a waste of time.'

'Yes, I can see that.' She appraised her patient with a cool gaze. 'Why is that?'

'Listen, Doctor,' Shepard said flatly, leaning forward, 'I'm willing to discuss matters pertinent to my legal case, but I'm not going to sit here and tell you about my life and my feelings. Do we understand each other?'

'But it's all relevant, Shepard. The jury will want to know what made you act the way you did, how you felt about it, what events in your life led up to it. They will be looking to me for a professional opinion of your mental and emotional state in order to be able to come to an informed decision. So…' She put a hand to her chin reflectively. 'I understand you were born here on Earth – New York City. No parents?'

'Right.'

'Foster homes, a lot of different families…'

'Yeah.'

'You were a wayward teen, if I recall correctly.'

Shepard snorted a version of a humourless laugh. 'If you mean screwed up, then yes.'

'How so?'

'I'm sure you already know that.'

Vega didn't. Listening in on the session was not his choice, but if he had to be in the room, then he could not help but overhear. He was curious as to the "screwed up" youth of his revered hero. He wondered if it was anything like his own.

'Did you ever undergo therapy for your problems?' asked the Doctor.

'No.'

'So how did you deal with the repercussions of what happened to you as a young girl?

'People can deal with their own issues without the help of a therapist.'

'Did you deal with your issues?' Arden pressed her.

'That's really none of your business. Stick to the matter at hand, if you don't mind.'

'You want to talk about Bahak?'

Shepard sneered at her. 'That's what I'm here for.'

'All right,' the Doctor conceded. 'Tell me about it.'

'Ever heard of the Reapers?'

Arden nodded once. 'As far as I understand, you are the only person to have seen them.'

'They are the reason I did what I did. Why I'm here, why I'm on trial, why I need to get out of this damn cell.'

'And you felt that destroying the Bahak system would… stop these Reapers?'

She was patronising her. Vega felt his skin itch, annoyance rising within him. They way she said "Reapers" was not much different to the way a grown-up would say "bogeyman" to a child.

Shepard licked her lips, taking a moment to settle her feelings. Then she responded slowly, deliberately: 'You think I would let tens of thousands of people die if the Reaper threat wasn't serious?'

'What I think is irrelevant. I'd like to know what you think. You felt this was the only way, and that you were acting for the greater good. Could you explain that to me?'

'The Reapers are heading this way to purge our galaxy of all organic life as we know it. They use the mass relays to travel. The relay in the Bahak system was the next one they were going to jump to. With that relay gone, their approach has been significantly delayed. My reasoning was simple: let thirty-thousand people die to give us the chance to prepare a defence that could save billions more.'

Arden considered her response. She cocked her head to one side as she scanned the patient's face. 'How do you feel about making that decision?'

'It was the right one.'

'Do you regret anything about it?'

'I'd do the same again if I had to go back.'

'Do you feel sad at the loss of innocent lives?' she rephrased the question pointedly.

'It doesn't matter how I feel about it.'

'Why don't you want to answer, Shepard? It seems to me that you are trying to hide from the reality of what you did. Will admitting how you feel make it any less real?'

'What do you want to hear?' Shepard was becoming agitated. 'That I see the faces of all the innocent people I killed every night when I go to sleep? That I wonder what the children would have grown up to become if they'd had the chance? That I have normal, decent feelings like any other human being?'

Arden said nothing, simply watching her.

'For the record,' the Commander said angrily, 'no, I am _not_ happy that innocent people died. But I didn't really think that needed saying!'

The Doctor gave her a sympathetic smile. 'I know,' she soothed. 'Shepard, something this traumatic has to take its toll on you. Remorse, denial, anger, acceptance… It's all part of a healthy process. There's no need to be ashamed of your feelings.'

Shepard looked over at the window, a shield over her eyes that refused to reveal any sign of weakness. She showed neither shame nor remorse. Her mouth was a tight line. Her nostrils were taut with anger, an emotion that sustained her while all other emotions were forbidden.

'I noticed you refer to the casualties as "people",' Arden nudged her. 'But does it make a difference that they were batarian and not human?'

Shepard glared at her. 'I know where you're going with this.'

'And where is that?'

'Torfan.'

As expected. Vega had been waiting for it. The Doctor wanted to know exactly what the rest of the galaxy wanted to know: Was Commander Shepard prejudiced against batarians because of her experience on Torfan?

'I did my job,' Shepard stated simply.

'Were you under emotional strain at that time?'

'No more than during any other battle.'

'Would you say that you reacted emotionally to the situation?'

'No.'

'I find that surprising, Shepard.' Doctor Arden raised the datapad to eye level and reviewed a portion of the text. 'According to your mission report, you ordered your squad to maintain an assault that had very little possibility of success and exposed them to serious danger. You continued to throw your men at batarian defences that were clearly too strong to breach.'

'We breached them.'

'Yes, but against the odds.'

'If I paid attention to odds, I'd never have sacked Torfan, saved the Citadel, or wiped out the Collectors.'

Arden brushed aside the statement. 'All right, tell me about what happened when you made it through the batarian defences.'

'We killed them.'

'Your commanding officer at the time, Major Kyle, reports that the batarians had already surrendered by that point.'

'I'm aware of what he reported.'

'Do you realise that the parallel statements of all of your men from that mission back up Major Kyle's claim?'

'Yes.'

'Under extreme emotional strain, one can easily react irrationally to a difficult situation.' Arden peered into her gaze, trying to draw an honest answer out of her. 'Is it possible, perhaps, that you allowed your feelings to get the better of you? The batarians surrendered, but you were still angry. You wanted payback. Considering their attack on Elysium not long before that, as well as the brutality of their slave trade, it would have been easy to feel like they did not deserve mercy.'

_Mercy._ That was the sarcastic nickname given to Shepard by the media after the events on Torfan. Soldiers called her "Mercy Shepard" behind her back, making jokes about her ruthlessness. And it wasn't just Torfan; Shepard was renowned for her harsh attitude towards criminals, terrorists and synthetics. Vega had never thought of her as being xenophobic, simply a whatever-it-takes kind of soldier. He firmly believed that if the slavers on Torfan and the people in the Bahak system had been human, Shepard would not have acted any differently.

'Don't pretend to sympathise with me, Doctor,' she was saying, her voice rising. 'You're accusing me of hating batarians and of destroying the Bahak system because its inhabitants were batarian.'

'I'm not accusing you of anything, Shepard. You came up with that accusation on your own.'

'Bullshit. You know what?' She stood up, shoulders thrown back, jaw clenched. 'I'm done. I want you out.'

Vega moved towards the two women, anticipating trouble. He observed carefully as the Doctor faced Shepard. If she was smart, she would call it a day.

'Let's just take a deep breath,' she said. 'Why don't you sit-'

'I swear to God, James,' snapped Shepard, 'if you don't remove her right now, things are going to get very ugly…'

Vega leaned down and touched Arden's shoulder. 'I think you'd better go.'

'It's all right, Lieutenant,' the shrink argued softly, never taking her eyes off of the Commander. 'Shepard isn't going to do anything rash. She knows the gravity of her situation. She understands that my testimony could help or hinder her case.'

'Yeah… I, uh, think you're reading her all wrong,' Vega advised her. 'She's not kidding, Doc.'

A flicker of doubt in the Doctor's eyes. She hesitated. Shepard was staring her down, just willing her to test her. Arden drummed her fingers on the back of the datapad as she deliberated. There was enough doubt in her mind to cause her to bow to fear.

'All right,' she said, standing up. 'I'll leave. For now.'

Shepard wheeled away with a disgruntled sound and headed for the window. She took up her familiar position against the glass, arms up, head down, leaning into it like the bars of a cage. She did not look back as Vega escorted the Doctor to the exit.

Once Arden was gone, Vega hung around in the doorway indecisively for a while. He was waiting for Shepard to say something, although he fully expected her to shout him out of the room. She flattened her palm against the windowpane and watched her breath form a patch of steam around it, her shoulders taut with tension. He couldn't see her face. After a few agonising seconds, he heard her say in a quiet voice:

'You said to let you know if I wanted anything?'

He scratched his neck uneasily. 'Yeah, Commander?'

'I want a drink.'

Vega's face relaxed into a grin. 'You got it.'


	9. Chapter 9: Closer

She held her liquor like a man twice her size. Vega was nicely warped from his string of tequila shots, and Shepard was still matching him. She was standing with her back against the window while she drank, laughing and chatting easily as if she were out with a friend. Vega sat on the edge of the bed. He was finding the situation unusual but quite fun. There had been no mention of alcohol in the briefing, so he was not technically breaking any rules by bringing it in to the prisoner, but it was just enough of a grey area to make it feel mischievous.

'…so this colossal tank-bred krogan has me pinned against the wall,' Shepard was relating jovially, 'and I'm completely on my own – no back up, no nothing. His snarling face is inches from mine, giant paw like a vice at my throat. He tells me that he wants a name before I die. So I tell him: "Commander Shepard".' She let out a burst of laughter, like she just couldn't contain it. 'And he just responds: "No, _my_ name. Okeer never gave me one."' She downed another shot, waited for her voice to return, and continued huskily: 'One of the last words he heard Okeer say was "grunt", so he decides that's a good enough name for himself. Meanwhile, I'm trying to move my arm so I can reach my gun, but he's got me pressed so hard I can't budge. I try to buy some time by getting really ballsy in his face – "My enemies threaten galaxies!" – while my fingers are working on the holster. By the time I've got my weapon to his ribs, Grunt is so impressed with my fearlessness that he lets me go.' She smiled fondly. 'He turned out to be one of the best team mates I ever had.'

'And that baby krogan helped you blow the Collector's base?' Vega asked in awe.

'Uh-huh. And he kind of adopted me as his mother.'

The Lieutenant gawked at her, speechless.

Shepard stared up at the starry English sky, still grinning like a fool. 'I wonder where my baby is right now.'

'That's just freaky,' Vega laughed. 'Definitely not something a guy wants to hear a girl say about a krogan…'

'Could be worse. I could be his biological mother.'

'Hell no…'

'Hey, I'll have you know, I've had offers!' She put a hand on her hip coquettishly. 'I'm quite popular with krogan males.'

'Woah,' Vega exclaimed. 'That's just _wrong_!'

'How is that wrong, when it's okay for a human to have sex with an asari?' She was obviously joking, but the question was fairly logical. 'They're both aliens.'

'Asari are hot,' was Vega's only reason. 'Krogan are… not.'

'I know what it's all about,' Shepard theorised, trying to keep a straight face. 'A lot of human females are jealous of asari because of the effect they have over our men. But I bet human males feel inadequate compared to krogan.'

'And why's that?'

'Because, next to a krogan, you're a pair short,' she shot at him wickedly.

He was surprised how playful she was being. Emboldened by her daring, Vega threw back: 'Next to a krogan he might have quantity, but _I_ got quality.'

She laughed a raucous, dirty laugh. 'Hah!'

Vega, still laughing, went to pour himself another serving of tequila. The bottle dripped disappointingly. He sagged. 'Ah… Out of tequila,' he moaned.

'That's too bad. It was starting to get fun in here. Who knows where things could have gone…'

An edge to her voice set off an alarm in Vega's head. He detected a strong note of flirtation. His vision swaying slightly, he glanced up at the Commander. Her cheeks were rich with colour and her smile was just a little naughty.

'You're kinda flirting with me, Commander…'

He had intended to say it in the privacy of his own mind. Instead, an ocean of tequila had swept it out of his mouth.

'Calm down, Lieutenant,' Shepard chuckled. 'I'm just kidding.'

Ouch. He painted over his embarrassment with a joke: 'Right, 'cause you're only into krogans.'

'And volus.'

He made a disgusted face. 'And hanar, while you're at it?'

'Can't resist those tentacle legs…'

They both shuddered at the thought and then broke out into laughter simultaneously. Admittedly, they were laughing far more than the situation warranted, but that was probably because of the alcohol. Tequila can make anything seem funny.

Vega glanced at the clock display on his omnitool and realised how late it was getting. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down before he attempted to move. Standing up was a big mistake. He watched the room wind around him like a released spring, sending his senses all over the place. Holding on to the nearest object, the chair, he succeeded in leaning upright.

'I'd better go, Commander,' he said.

'Sure, James,' the woman replied, shelving her empty shot glass. 'Thanks for the drink.'

He pointed a blurry finger at her. 'Don't tell anyone I gave you that.'

'Who am I going to tell?'

'…Just saying.'

She laughed. 'All right. I wont. Good night, James.'

He staggered back to his compact quarters. His head swimming with a confusing cocktail of tequila and hazy boundaries, he fell into his bunk without even bothering to get undressed. Time became muddled. Reality plunged into dream. Everything went black.

He found himself back on Omega, the air alight with reds and pinks intertwined in smoke. Music was thrumming somewhere in the background. He had a glass of something blue in his hand. Glancing around, he found that he was sitting at a table in the low level of Afterlife, the main club on Omega. There was an asari girl dancing for him, her body writhing to the beat of the music, crimson catsuit moulded to her skin in all the right places. Vega accepted his new reality without question, sinking back into his seat and enjoying the view. The girl winked at him and spread herself atop the table like a platter of delights. Her head disappeared from sight behind an arced back. When it re-emerged, it no longer belonged to the same girl.

Before his eyes the dancer had transformed into a porcelain-skinned human woman, with a slender body and a head of raven hair. She smiled at him and her eyes gleamed green in the light. He ran his gaze down her figure, the realisation of her identity seeping slowly into his consciousness like a familiar fragrance.

Commander Marie Shepard reined up on her knees and lifted her arms into the air, her petite torso coiling sensually. Her tight abdomen rippled as she moved, every inch of her skin visible beneath the fabric of her suit as if she were utterly naked. The collar area bared her flesh, revealing smooth cleavage which led down to glorious, perfect breasts. Vega was hypnotised by the rhythm of her body. She danced like a goddess, making sweet love to light and music in a breathtaking ballet of pure sexuality. When she rolled her hips he felt his stomach lurch. Heat filled his lower body, rising up through his chest and neck until even his face was burning.

Shepard reached out to him and teased his hair with her fingernails. He tried to catch her hand, but she evaded him. She laughed, the sound echoing beyond the music, and moved across the tabletop away from him. Her back to him, Shepard slid her hands down her outer curves. Vega's eyes slid down along with them. The crimson catsuit was shimmering upon her skin, and when it reached her lower back it poured into a thin strand between her round, unbearably divine, ivory buttocks. Vega inhaled sharply through pursed lips. He watched her muscles resonate as she flicked her hips.

On fire, he edged closer to the table, his drink forgotten, his universe fading behind him. He was overcome with the desire to touch her. Answering his most primal prayers, Shepard came for him. He was gripped by anticipation. She was almost within reach. On all fours like a panther she crawled towards him, and her luminous eyes swallowed him whole. She licked her cherry red lips – _damn_ he wanted a taste so bad!

Closer!

The limber vixen braced her hands against his mighty shoulders and climbed down onto his lap. He felt her weight upon his thighs as she straddled him. It felt good. She came against him, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, and her angelic face filled his vision. Her body pulsed to the pounding of his heartbeat, sending shivers up his spine. She leaned in and put her mouth upon the edge of his neck. So real. Her hot breath caressed the tiny hairs on his skin. Her tongue ran along his jawline. Vega bit his lip hard.

Pain jerked him awake.

He leapt into an upright position, casting around in a panic. His shirt was sticking to his back with perspiration, and his trousers were uncomfortably tight. He closed his eyes against the spinning of the room, fighting to regain his senses beyond the ones emanating from his lower regions. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was. The first thing he did when it came rushing back to him was look over at the security monitors. He located Shepard.

_Shit. This is not good._

He wiped away a coat of sweat from his face and noticed that his hand came away with a smear of blood. He touched his lip and found that he had bitten it so hard that he'd made it bleed.

_No, no, no…_

The Commander was curled up in bed, the duvet clenched between her legs and wrapped around her upper body. Vega swallowed back a lusty sound in his throat.

_Pull yourself together, man!_

He tried. It didn't help that he had an eyeful of those gazelle-like legs from the surveillance screen in front of him. Her shorts had ridden up so high on her left side that he could see the curve where her butt met her thigh. His mind and body were in chaos. He tore himself away from the console and headed for the bathroom. Still fairly drunk – and fully clothed – he groped for the shower controls for a while before he managed to get the water running.

Cold shocked him to his core. He yelped and gritted his teeth against the barrage of water that was at near-painful temperature, immersing himself in it. He could practically feel the steam rising from his body. For a few minutes he simply stood there, praying that the chilly downpour would take away all his new thoughts and feelings.

Not her. Not Shepard. This wasn't like having an adolescent sex dream about his best friend's older sister – who, incidentally, found out later. This was the most inconvenient, inappropriate, and damn idiotic fantasy he'd ever had. He attempted to reassure himself of his own common sense by reasoning that he had not deliberately created that fantasy – it was just a dream. He couldn't be blamed for his dreams, right? He had once dreamt that his father had turned into a Collector drone and tried to kill him. And there was the one where he'd attended a birthday party for the salarian dalatrass, and had arrived to find that he was wearing nothing but a pair of Blast-O underpants. Dreams were dumb and illogical. They didn't mean anything.

Never meet your hero. How many times had he thought of that phrase since coming face to face with the Commander? Now more than ever it rang true. Whoever first said it should have also added: "And never, _ever_ picture your hero naked".


	10. Chapter 10: Lola

Morning brought with it a mild hangover, but at least Vega had not had any more embarrassing dreams that night. He contemplated sending a service mech into the Commander's cell with her breakfast so that he wouldn't have to face her so soon, but his macho pride flared in response. He had no reason to feel uncomfortable, and nothing to be ashamed of. And, damn it, James Vega does _not_ hide from any woman. So he ordered the meals, psyched himself up, and marched right in.

Shepard had just finished her morning workout and subsequent shower. She was straightening the bed covers when the Lieutenant walked in. She glanced back over her shoulder, gave him a nod, and went to fluff the pillows. She didn't see him salute.

'Any word on a trial date yet?' she asked, arranging the extra cushions on the bed.

'Nah, you know what these things are like.'

'Don't I just.'

Vega tried not to look at her prostrated form as she leaned over the duvet. Her back was facing him, but that wasn't what was filling his view. He was just thankful that the unisex Alliance get-up she was in was concealing most of her curves. He pumped his shoulders, attempting to loosen himself up so that he would look more at ease when she came to sit with him. He cleared his throat.

'You got a choice today,' he announced, in a slightly gruffer voice than he had intended. 'Uh, English breakfast or continental.'

'Did I wake up in a hotel?' Shepard smoothed down the bedsheets and stood up. 'What's with the rich, fatty menu?'

Vega shrugged. 'I guess Fridays are special. It's on every week.'

He watched her move past him to her armchair in the corner and set herself down. Vega took the spare office chair. He started to separated the two meals and the packets of cutlery.

'It seems like the brass are trying to fatten me up for something,' Shepard observed lightly.

'You watching your figure, Commander?'

She smiled. 'I'd kind of like to still be able to get into my armour when this is over.'

'Come on,' Vega jostled, finding her smile infectious. 'Indulge yourself. It's gotta be more exciting than starship food.'

'I don't know about that,' she replied. 'Last month I had calamari gumbo.'

'Damn. Cerberus has spoiled you, Commander.'

He held out one container in each hand, the contents visible through the silicone casings. As her eyes flitted between the two, he made a slight juggling motion.

'Which one do you want?' he asked her.

She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. 'Which one was supposed to be mine? I'm sure you have a preference.'

'Hey, I'm easy, Lo-' He cut himself short. What was he about to call her? Faltering as he tried to cover up the near-mistake, he came out with a string of "um"s and "uh"s, while Shepard stared at him quizzically. 'I'm… You know… I don't mind,' he mumbled. 'You can choose, Commander.'

Now she was scanning his face, attempting to figure out what he had not wanted to say. Watching carefully for a reaction, she said: 'Something wrong, James?'

'No, ma'am.' He felt his ears burning. 'Just forgot to get coffee. Sorry. Did you want some?'

'I have a coffee dispenser right here, remember?'

His embarrassment was almost painful. Trying desperately to salvage something of his composure, Vega forced a laugh. 'Sure, sure. I knew that. Must be the tequila, not fully out of my system yet…'

She gave him a slightly confused smile. 'Right. Okay. So, if you're not fussed either way, then how about I have the continental breakfast?'

'No problem.' He handed it to her.

The long quiet as they unwrapped their pre-packaged meals. The uncomfortable first few bites in silence. Vega wished he had stayed in his cabin. He made a mental death threat to himself if he ever slipped up like that again. He knew what he almost called her. He knew why. And if he was mentally linking those two women together, then he was already screwed.

He glanced over at Shepard discreetly while they ate. She didn't look much like Lola. They shared the hair colour and the athletic figure, but that was where the similarities ended. Perhaps it wasn't the physical appearance that had conjured up Lola's memory in his brain; it could be that the respect he had for the Commander was akin to the way he'd looked up to Lola all those years ago. Older woman – well, girl, in Lola's case – with brains, charm, and beauty, who would never seriously look twice at somebody like him. He had only been able to spend so much time around Lola because he was best friends with her brother. Lola had tolerated him, made nice, shared a few jokes with him, and allowed him to bask in the light that he would never be able to touch. Innocent obliviousness on her part had left a young James frustrated and hopeless. But she had always looked out for him. There would always be the "big sister" air hovering over her memory – only to the point that still made it okay for him to fantasise about her naked, of course.

On second thought, as Vega relaxed into his chair with his satisfying fried breakfast, perhaps the name mix-up had just been pure coincidence. Shepard was not a super-hot high-school girl with a ponytail, she wasn't his best friend's sister, and he did not have a crush on her. She was an Alliance officer. She was his role model and the hero of humanity. One crazy dream and a slip-up with her name meant nothing.

'Has anybody tried to contact me since I've been here?' Shepard asked him all of a sudden.

He glanced up from his food. 'Not that I know of, Commander. You waiting for something?'

'Not really,' she said. 'And I know I'm not allowed to take messages or visitors. I was just wondering if you had heard from any of my former crew.'

'No, ma'am. Sorry.'

'That's all right.' She finished off a croissant. 'I wish I knew what was happening out there.'

Vega felt sorry for her. The injustice of the whole thing resurfaced in his mind. She must be missing her friends and crew mates. She must be worrying about what had become of them. For all she knew, her loyal squad who had followed her to hell and back could be facing criminal trials of their own.

'Is there anyone you want me to look up?' he offered.

She shook her head. 'You're not supposed to do that.'

'Screw it. I can check if I want to. Just give me the names and I'll see if I can find out how they're doing.'

Shepard smiled behind a spoonful of yoghurt. 'I appreciate the offer, James,' she said warmly, 'but it's fine, really. You'll let me know if anyone asks after me, though?'

'Sure, Commander.' In an attempt to cheer her up, he added: 'Hey, maybe you'll see some friendly faces at the trial. There are still some people who believe in you.'

Something in that statement seemed to have the opposite effect to the one intended. Shepard's smile sank, her eyes lowered, and she wandered mentally into a sad memory. She was still for a few moments, her spoon hanging in mid-air. Vega wanted to ask her what was wrong, but he could not bring himself to intrude. The expression on her delicate features was too deep, too personal. He felt he did not belong there.

Conversation dried up completely after that. Shepard offered nothing further and Vega did not expect anything. They finished their food and he gathered up the trash. He prepared to leave. Shepard was curled up in the armchair, her eyes distant, her countenance dark. He didn't want to leave her all alone, but it was evident that she wasn't interested in socialising.

'Commander,' he said softly, hovering by the door.

'Mmm?' she looked up.

He shoved the disposable containers into the crook of his arm so that he could free his other hand for a salute. 'You can call me… you know, if you need anything.'

'Thanks.'

'Just so you know.'

Shepard tilted her head and gave him a glimpse of her girlish smile. 'I know. I appreciate it, James. You're a nice guy.'

There was a second where time slowed and Vega was simply standing there, looking over at the sad, smiling face of his prisoner. When the universe resumed its movement, Vega was almost thrown off balance by the suddenness of it.

He grunted, slightly embarrassed, and hid it with: 'It's my job.'

And he got out of there as fast as he could.

He was on auto-pilot as he disposed of the refuse, returned to his cabin, and sat down at the monitoring station. Images of that damn dream – mingled with Shepard's smile and Lola's school uniform – bombarded his consciousness. He couldn't think over the commotion it was making. He knew he was still probably suffering from some form of post-traumatic stress from his mission on Fehl Prime, as well as multiple blows to the head from his brawl on Omega, and all the surprises he had been subjected to over the last couple of days. Was he having a breakdown? Or maybe he was losing his mind. It was also a slight possibility that this was all a dream.

Commander Shepard had not moved from her position in the corner of the room. He could see her on the security screen, slumped over the arm of the chair with a glaze over her eyes. She needed something, but he had no idea what. How was he expected to help her? What could he possibly do for somebody like that? He never dealt with his own issues, usually simply pushed everything down into a big pile deep inside. He was not qualified to help anybody with their problems, especially someone with such unimaginable burdens.

He watched helplessly as she sighed into the distance, and her smooth forehead crumpled into a frown. Her mouth was a thin, tight line, with the muscles in her neck pulsing as her jaw gripped shut. It could have been the light reflecting in her eyes, but Vega thought he saw tears there. If they were there at all, that is where they stayed. She did not cry.


	11. Chapter 11: Whispers in the Night

_'Where were you?'_

The words sifted in through his dreams and touched him softly. They came from beyond the sleeping world, stirring his senses, awakening his mind. He opened his eyes.

It was dark. The only light was emanating from the security monitoring station across the room. Vega squinted around, wondering what had woken him. The clock read "02:19".

'I needed you…'

He glanced at the source of the sound, realising it was Shepard's voice. Confused, Vega rolled out of his bunk and went over to the station, his eyes scanning the multiple screens. He found the Commander perched on the windowsill in her cell, bathed in moonlight, cradling her knees up against her body protectively. She was dressed lightly in a vest and shorts. Her hair was tousled as if she had been tossing and turning. Vega zoomed the camera in closer, concern and curiosity compelling him.

'Where were you, you son of a bitch?' she whispered to herself, pale cheek upon the glass. 'Damn you…'

Her breath clouded her reflection but she was looking far beyond it, even beyond the starry sky, past the many worlds she'd visited, past the galaxy she'd sacrificed so much for. Her eyes were lost. More lost than anything Vega had ever seen.

'I needed you…' she said once more. This time her voice broke a little.

_Holy crap, is she crying?_

The camera had zoomed in as far as it could go. The screen was filled with the haunting sight of Shepard's face, uncertain and vulnerable, despite everything she had lived through that would have broken a lesser person. There were no tears. It was as if the sadness had surpassed tears long ago.

She had no idea that Vega was awake. She had no idea that he could see her, _hear_ her. The Lieutenant was paralysed by shock and indecision, feeling guilty for stumbling across this revelation without meaning to. What should he do? He wanted to help somehow, but he was convinced that Shepard wouldn't accept his help. She would surely be ashamed to find out that he was seeing her like this. Besides, what could he even do for her? When a woman cries, you say "It's okay" and pat her back until she stops. That was Vega's experience, anyway. But what about when a freaking superwoman cries? He came up empty.

He tried to solve his dilemma by restarting his reasoning process from a new angle. What would he do if Shepard were a male officer? Imprisoned, alone, struggling with some deep emotional problems, and the security guard assigned to him oversees this kind of moment in the middle of the night…

The answer was simple, but he did not like it. If Shepard was a man, Vega would pretend he never saw what he was now seeing, zoom out of the surveillance, get back on the bunk and go back to sleep. If Shepard was a man, Vega would assume this was none of his business and would try to forget about it. Every man has his own issues to deal with, in which other men do not interfere.

But Shepard wasn't a man. Right now, on the screen that displayed her most private emotions for Vega to see, she looked just like a little girl.

Vega's hand hovered over the comm button that linked to the prisoner's cell. But what would he say? He withdrew it. He started to get up and move towards the door. But what would he do? He sat down again. He rubbed his forehead in frustration, wishing he could think of something. He couldn't even go back to sleep, because there was no way he would be able to rest without wondering if that sad little girl on the screen was all right. She shivered. Her bare shoulders hunched up in the cool night air. Vega just wanted to put a blanket over her.

Minutes rolled by. The night deepened. Shepard did nothing, and neither did Vega.


	12. Chapter 12: Intruders

He must have slept, because when he came to he was face down on the monitoring console, his chin plastered to the camera controls in a puddle of drool. He made a licking motion and tried to stretch out his sore lips. As he reached up to wipe away the saliva, he remembered what he had seen before sleep had taken him. He glanced at the screen and found that the sad silhouette huddled against the window was gone. The room was still dark, with no sign of daybreak. His eyes were drawn to the bed. There was Shepard, lying on her back on top of the duvet, wide awake, staring up at the glass panels in the ceiling. Her hands were folded on her stomach, bare arms gleaming in the moonlight. She had no discernible expression on her face as she watched the sky through the roof of her quarters. Vega checked the time and found he had only slept for an hour. Shepard, it seemed, had not.

A sudden chime pierced the air, startling Vega. The wall lights flared red.

_'Lieutenant Vega, do you copy?'_

Vega snapped to attention at the sound of the urgent voice crackling over the comm. The entire room was flashing. He kicked the chair across the room on its wheels and slammed his hand down on the lighted comm panel.

'Vega here,' he barked into the console.

'This is Major Richards, Central Security. We've got a breach in the west wing. The facility is under attack. I repeat: the facility is under attack. The target is Shepard.'

'Copy that!' Vega was on his feet and snatching up a pack of thermal clips. 'I'm on it!'

'Negative, Lieutenant!' the Major shouted above the alarm. 'We have teams in place to deal with the threat. Your job is to get Shepard out of here!'

'What?'

'Lieutenant, we have orders to evacuate your prisoner at the first sign of an attack. Her safety is paramount. A car will be waiting for you at the south-east entrance. There you will find instructions on your next location. Do you understand?'

The room was in chaos, sight and sound. Red lights pounded Vega's vision while the alarms screamed into his ears. He took a quick glance at the screen that held Shepard's image. She was out of bed, alerted by the warning sounds, rushing to the comm terminal. Her voice sounded among the din.

'James! What's going on?'

Vega threw on a pair of pants and a shirt as he shouted a quick reply to Major Richards: 'Understood, sir! I'll get her out!'

He grabbed a pair of pistols, shoved one of them into a holster at his hip, took a set of cuffs from the shelf, and was through the door within seconds. He held his pistol at shoulder height as he emerged into the corridor, keeping flat against the wall while he made a quick check around. The facility was alive with lights and sounds, and Alliance personnel were breaking from their posts to converge on the breached entrance. Whoever was attacking had not yet reached Shepard's wing. While the security system at the cell door ran its scan to identify him, Vega buckled his belt and adjusted his hastily equipped items. An assault rifle and some battle armour would have been nice – or at least a shield matrix – but there had been no time.

The scanner confirmed his access and the cell door opened. Vega headed in to meet Shepard, after casting another glance behind him to make sure the coast was clear. She bounded up to him as he entered, her eyes alert.

'What's going-' she began.

Vega interrupted her by snapping a handcuff on her wrist and securing it to his own. The only way anybody was taking Shepard would be over his dead body. She looked at him in alarm, but then her attention was drawn sharply to the corridor behind him. Before Vega had a chance to turn, Shepard nabbed the spare pistol from his belt and blasted it over his shoulder. He jumped away from the door, wrenching the prisoner with him into cover. A quick glance out almost earned him a mouthful of gunfire. He slammed back against the wall, one arm pinning Shepard back as his mind whirled to translate the glimpse he had just seen of the area beyond the cell. Two enemies, armoured, helmeted, the glow of kinetic barriers and the burst of SMG barrels. More could be behind them.

'Give me that gun,' he hissed to Shepard. 'You can't be armed.'

'Screw that!' she snapped. 'I just saved your ass!'

An explosion of gunfire sounded on the other side of the wall. Vega swore, and ducked out of cover for a moment to unleash a round at the intruders. There were more than two now. They had almost reached the cell door.

'Okay,' he said to Shepard. There were more pressing concerns than the protocols about prisoners having access to weapons. 'But stay behind me and follow my lead.'

There was a flash of indignation in her expression at that. Vega ignored it. His blood was pumping heat through his body, and the taste of battle was upon his tongue. His senses focused to animal-like precision. They would have to fight their way out.

He dropped low to the ground and leaned out to fire off some more shots. Shepard, despite the hindrance of the cuffs linking her to Vega, reared out of the doorway and aimed at the closest intruder. She hit him directly in the face, right through a weak point in his barrier. The advancing team separated into pairs, ducking behind the nearest cover, but not before Vega seared their barriers with a few good shots. He leaned back.

Shepard pulled at the handcuffs in frustration. At this rate the movements of the two soldiers were severely limited and neither would be able to give the other any useful cover. The Commander cast around the immediate area. Vega saw her grab one of the cushions that had fallen off of the bed and toss it outside. Gunfire ensued in the corridor, aimed at the harmless cushion. Shepard took advantage of their distraction, leapt over Vega into the doorway and opened fire. It was barely a few seconds, but it enabled her to catch two of the intruders before her weapon began to overheat. The two men who were hit went down and Vega pulled Shepard back into the room before the others could take aim at her. She popped the steaming clip of her pistol and wordlessly snatched another right out of Vega's holster.

'Don't take risks,' Vega growled at her. 'I told you to follow my lead!'

'Who the hell do you think you are?' she demanded, snapping the new thermal clip into place. 'Get these damn cuffs off of me so I can kill these bastards!'

Something small and metallic landed in the doorway with a clink and rolled towards them. It was hissing. Vega leapt to his feet, swept the Commander up, and made a dive for the other side of the room. The grenade exploded as they hit the ground, and a wave of heat and shrapnel swept over them. Vega shielded her with his broad body. Barely noticing the shards of glass and metal that had embedded themselves in his back from the blast, he was up in a heartbeat, reaching for the book case, dragging it down in front of them for cover. It crashed to the floor and its contents spilled out everywhere.

Intruders burst through the doorway, firing wildly in all directions. Vega pressed Shepard down hard behind the book case, refusing to let her move. He waited for a break in fire to take a few shots of his own, but then something else caught his attention. Alliance guards had intercepted the armed men in the private wing and had opened fire. The ones shooting up Shepard's cell were forced to turn their focus to the new threat. Vega risked a glance over the edge of the book case and saw that there were only three Alliance men against at least half a dozen of the intruders. He looked over at the large window, unscathed by the blast, with the peaceful view of the night sky beyond it. He made a decision.

While the three brave guards battled the enemy squad, Vega took his chance to do what he had been ordered to do: Protect the prisoner. Get her out. That was his priority. One hand still holding Shepard to the ground, he aimed at the window, shielded his eyes, and blasted the glass to pieces. He made a run for the gaping hole with Shepard in tow. One of the intruders darted out of the fire-fight in the corridor and pointed his SMG at Vega, but Shepard took him down with a single bullet between the eyes. She and Vega leapt through the jagged window frame onto the ledge outside.

It was narrow and the wind was whipping up from all sides. Vega held one arm in front of Shepard protectively, but his balance was shaky at best. They sidled along the ledge away from the window, away from the sounds of gunfire and screaming. Below them the rear grounds of the detention centre were calm and quiet, as if nothing was going on at all. Vega could see the car parked where Major Richards had said it would be. The intruders had broken in through the west side of the building, which was far enough from the vehicle that they had a chance to reach it without being spotted.

'Who were those guys?' Shepard asked, peering over the edge.

'No idea,' said Vega. 'I was told about five minutes ago just that we're under attack and I've gotta get you out.'

'They're here for me?'

He stood very still for a moment as a gust of wind rattled against them. The ledge seemed to grow more and more narrow with each step. Vega tried not to look down.

'Yeah,' he said. 'Your pretty popular, Commander.'

'Where are we going?'

Vega pointed towards the vehicle below. Shepard squinted at it in the darkness.

'When we get to the car,' he explained, 'there'll be orders on where to take you.'

Shepard nodded, taking in the situation, her analytical gaze sweeping the area. Her bare feet moved along the ledge without a hint of instability. Vega considered himself at a disadvantage in this position; his bulky torso was forcing him closer to the edge, while slender Shepard was able to keep close to the wall.

She gestured towards a nearby tree that was almost tall enough to reach the ledge.

'Head for that,' she said decisively. 'But you have to get these cuffs off if we're going to climb down.'

'No way. We'll do it with the cuffs on.'

She jerked her arm angrily to rattle the chain. 'That's an order, Lieutenant!'

Vega glanced at her. 'Oh, an order? Sorry, I didn't realise, ma'am!' he mocked, losing patience. 'In that case… No!'

'Damn it, Vega,' she snapped. 'You salute me every goddamn time you walk in the room, and you choose _now_ to become insubordinate?'

He shook his head in frustration, trying to juggle ten things in his mind all at one time. He had to think, and this woman was seriously throwing off his concentration. Neglecting to reply, he focused on the nearby tree. She was right, it was close enough for them to be able to climb down. But he was not about to let Commander Shepard out of his sight – or his reach – while she was in danger. He had one job, and he was _not_ going to blow it.

He holstered his pistol. Turning carefully so that his front was now pressed to the wall, he raised the arm that was cuffed to Shepard's and dragged her up onto his back with one forceful movement. The action almost lost him his balance, but he clawed his free hand into a groove on the wall to hold himself up. Shepard was draped over one of his shoulders, held firmly in place by the chain that bound them together. She knew better than to struggle. Instead, she locked her free arm around the Lieutenant's neck and straddled his back with her legs. Vega started to move towards the tree.

'You're going to climb down like this?' Shepard questioned him with audible doubt.

'No disrespect, Commander,' Vega said, gritting his teeth as his fingers dug into solid rock, 'but you really gotta shut up now…'

He edged his way along to where the uppermost tree branch touched the wall beneath the ledge. Reaching out and pulling himself onto the branch was impossible – he was going to have to jump for it.

An armed intruder chose that precise moment to lean out of the shattered window and fire at them. The shot whizzed past Vega's head. He swore and glanced back at the tree that was still out of reach. Another bullet struck the rock just a few inches away from his shoulder, sending dust and gravel exploding in the Lieutenant's face. Vega knew that the next one would not miss. He took a quick breath, braced himself against the wall, and leapt backwards off of the ledge.

He and Shepard plummeted through a barrage of leaves and branches. Vega grabbed wildly for a handhold to stop their descent and sheared his knuckles on the sharp wood. About halfway down the tree he managed to close his hand over something solid and they came to a stop very abruptly. Pain jarred his wrist all the way up to his shoulder, but he held fast. His cuffed arm was useless, since it was pinned back with Shepard's weight, so he was forced to cling on one-handed. He heard more gunfire. Unable to see through the leaves in the dark night, Vega was nearly blind. He swung his legs in search of a sturdy place to plant his feet. With no idea how far it was to the ground, and no way to reach for another handhold, there was nothing left to do but to let go and hope he didn't break any bones.

The uncertainty of the drop flipped his stomach, but it was short-lived. He landed firmly on his feet less than a metre down, teetered, and almost stumbled. Shepard slid down from his back and tugged at the chain for him to get moving. The man at the window was still shooting at them, but they were mostly screened by the large tree they had just fallen through. Fire lit up one of the branches overhead.

Vega regained his balance, drew his pistol, and took off running in the direction of the waiting car. Shepard matched his pace with her long, athletic legs. Over her shoulder she aimed her gun and took a shot at the attacker in the window. As impossible as it would have been for her to hit him directly, considering the distance, limited vision, and movement as she ran, she nevertheless managed to blast a chunk out of the top of the window frame and send a shard of glass down on the shooter's neck. He was no longer a problem.

'Nice shot!' Vega congratulated her through laboured breaths.

'We've got a clear run to the car,' she responded tersely. 'Pick up the pace, Lieutenant.'

They sprinted ahead, occasionally glancing back to check if anyone was following. The area seemed quiet and deserted. It didn't take long for them to reach the vehicle. Finding it unlocked, Vega punched the door release and literally threw Shepard inside. He shoved her over into the passenger seat and dropped down behind the driver controls, quickly sealing the door shut. The system activated and lit up the control panel. On the navigation screen a map popped up, showing a pre-programmed route away from the facility. Vega wasted no time in initiating auto-pilot. The car hummed as it took to the air, rising above the detention centre walls and picking up speed as it reached a traffic stream.


	13. Chapter 13: High Speed Chase

Vega sat back in the seat and let the computer navigate. He was out of breath and could feel about a dozen areas of pain across his body. He turned to look at Shepard, who was focused on the rear view screen, watching for any signs of pursuit. She was still wearing her sleepwear items, nothing more than a vest and shorts, and her bare feet were filthy. Her alabaster skin was grazed and singed all over, nicked by shrapnel, smeared with dust, and there were leaves tangled in her hair. Her neck had been slashed at the side, and the shallow cut was weeping. Vega leaned over to inspect it.

'What?' Shepard grunted, moving away from him.

Vega held up his hands defensively. 'Hey, I was just checking your injuries,' he said. 'Chill, man.'

She touched her neck and glanced down at the smear of blood that coloured her hand. 'It's nothing,' she said dismissively. 'Keep an eye out in case we're being followed.'

Vega checked each of the view screens. All angles seemed clear. Traffic was light, and none of the vehicles were displaying any signs of pursuit. The London streets were bright with artificial light, with buildings shining on either side of the skyway.

'Looks like we're good,' he reported, putting away his pistol. 'Here, give me your gun.'

'I think I'll hold on to it.'

He narrowed his eyes impatiently. 'Commander, you're not keeping it. You're still my prisoner.'

'You scared I'm going to shoot you and make a run for it?' Shepard said, her expression completely without humour.

'No. Just give me the gun.'

'Back off, James.'

He sat forward and reached for the weapon that she was keeping at her side. She elbowed his arm away. Vega grabbed her by the wrist and pinned her back against the seat, then he stretched over her to take the gun. As his fingers curled around the barrel, a sudden jolt shook the car. Vega slammed back into his seat and looked at the view screens in alarm.

'What was that?' Shepard yelled, scrambling to see.

The rear display was filled with an unmarked black vehicle – tinted windows, no license plate, no make or model. It had just rammed into their bumper. Vega's hand danced over the dashboard as he rushed to deactivate auto-pilot.

'Hold on, Commander, we're getting off the skyway!'

The manual control panel lit up and he spun the holographic wheel wildly. The car lurched to the right and sped out of the traffic stream, hurtling into the broad open sky. Vega caught sight of the black car leaving the stream to pursue them.

'Yup, they're after us, all right,' he muttered, a touch of excitement in his voice. 'They must have had guys waiting outside in case you left the building.'

Shepard reached in and rifled through the Lieutenant's pockets for more thermal clips. He chuckled inadvertently as she fumbled over something sensitive.

'Hey!' he said with mock outrage. 'I appreciate the interest, Commander, but now's really not the time…'

She yanked out a couple of clips and scowled at him. Not bothering to reply, she prepped her pistol.

Vega shot a glance at the rear view screen and saw that the black car was matching their direction and velocity. They were almost close enough to ram them again. Vega pushed his fingers sharply up the accelerator panel and felt the engine lurch into a higher gear. Skyscrapers rushed past the windows, creating a streak of unbroken light either side of the car. Vega drove between the buildings, winding in and out recklessly in an effort to lose the pursuing vehicle. The boosters fired. Vega and Shepard were pushed back in their seats with the force.

Something clanged against the hull, and both soldiers recognised the sound. A glance at the view screen confirmed their suspicions – an armoured assailant was hanging out of the open door of the pursuing vehicle, the Predator in his hands pointing straight at them.

'Shit!' hissed Vega, trying to evade the gunfire without releasing the boosters button. 'Who the hell are these guys?'

Shepard gave another frustrated tug at the handcuffs as she attempted to open her door. With a growl of fury, she turned towards Vega, came out of her seat, and clambered over his lap towards the driver's door. He fought to see the screen over her.

'The hell are you doing?' he shouted as the Commander's knee jabbed him in the balls.

She thumped the door release. 'I'm ending this!'

'Comman-'

The door rose and a strong gust blasted in, almost knocking Shepard back. Cold air ripped through the cab and deafened them, overwhelming their eyes and ears, and snatching their breath from their lungs. Shepard balanced precariously across Vega's knees. He braced her with his cuffed arm while he battled with the driving controls with his other hand. He was practically flying blind. Any second now they could crash head-first into a skyscraper.

Shepard seemed undeterred. She was seething mad and out for blood. Kept from falling out of the wide open door only by the chain linking her to Vega, she leaned out as far as she could and aimed her gun at the pursuing car. Vega's senses were being bombarded from every angle. Adrenaline tore through his body, super-heating his blood and focusing his reactions to new levels. His hand spun the holo wheel sharply as a building flashed up in front of the screen, and he almost shaved the side as he tried to evade it. He felt like he was playing chicken with an entire city of massive, invulnerable structures.

He could hear Shepard's pistol firing in the howling wind. She ducked inside to safety as the enemy littered their hull with bullets.

'Get us away from the city!' she screamed at him, expelling a thermal clip. 'Away from civilians! I'm gonna light this bitch up!'

Vega scanned desperately for a fast route out of Central London. These terrestrial cars were not designed for travelling at high altitudes above the skyways, but it appeared to be the only option. He was going to have to take this thing up over the buildings.

Once they were up above the city and there were no more obstructions in their flight path, Vega was able to catch his breath and relax a little. Now he could afford to divide his attention. He pointed the car in the direction of the nearest unpopulated area and switched his gaze to the rear view screen. The black car was still gaining on them. The helmeted gunman was bobbing in and out of the open door as he exchanged weapons fire with Shepard. Neither had made a useful hit so far.

'Commander,' Vega shouted, when Shepard leaned in to slap on a new clip. 'You wanna switch? I could pick that shooter out of the sky for you.'

She was not amused by the playful comment. Her gun clicked into readiness. 'I'm not aiming for the shooter,' she said simply, and returned to the doorway.

Glancing again at the view screen, Vega kept the vehicle steady as he watched to see what the Commander was doing. Her shots were pinging off of the enemy's hull around the front windscreen. A few of them had struck the pane, and there were large cracks forming across it. The driver's view was becoming more and more obscured.

The chase led the two vehicles out over a woodland area. Their passage whipped up the tops of the trees, sending a shiver through the branches. Shepard was making progress on the toughened windscreen – it was about ready to shatter – but the enemy was almost against their bumper. Shepard popped a sizzling clip and leaned out of the door again, determined to make this the last round.

And then she was hit.

It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment she was hanging onto the headrest of Vega's chair, blasting furiously into the mouth of the other car, and then she dropped. Vega barely had time to glance at her before she flew out of his lap. The weight of her jolted his arm as she came to an abrupt halt. Vega lost control of the navigation, his body wrenching half out of the door, the handcuffs dragging him down. Shepard was dangling one-armed from the chain as the car hurtled ahead at a dizzying speed.

Vega jammed his legs against the sides of the doorway to stop himself being thrown out along with Shepard. He heaved his cuffed arm up while his free hand mashed the controls blindly. The car was leaning now, dipping downwards, nose-diving towards the blur of green below. With a grunt, Vega managed to hoist Shepard up high enough so that she could grab hold of him. The force of the wind at this velocity was incredible. Vega was struggling to bring the Commander back inside, and he could see that she was trailing blood as they flew. The controls were forgotten. The view screens were ignored.

Somehow Shepard had managed to retain her gun. She gripped it tightly with her free hand while the wind snatched at it, while her cuffed hand held onto Vega. She was careening wildly out of control, slamming again and again into the hull. Her arm was laced with pain and her shoulder was bleeding. The black car was so close that she could see the face of the driver, and she felt a surge of renewed determination as she noticed that he was not wearing a helmet. The windscreen was almost breached. One more well-aimed shot could finish this.

She took the shot. It seared through the glass and hit the driver directly in the eye. Trying not to black out as the pain in her arm intensified, she squinted through the shattered screen and watched the man slump forward onto the control panel. The boosters activated abruptly and the vehicle leapt forward, dislodging the armoured gunman and throwing him out. There was less than a second before the cars collided. Vega acted on instinct, grasping Shepard's arm and jumping out of the door.


	14. Chapter 14: Signal Fires

He struck the surface of the water hard and plunged into the icy depths below. His breath knocked out of him, Vega felt his entire body seize up at the shock of the cold. For what seemed like an eternity, he plummeted deeper and deeper down, unable to move. Then, in a rush, all of his senses flooded back to him. He drove himself upwards against the weight of his clothing, desperate to breathe, panicking that he would not reach the surface in time.

His head burst out of the water and he gulped a massive lungful of air. The night washed over him in a cold, silent wave. He shivered. Behind him, the night sky was engulfed in smoke and flames, as the downed vehicles burned somewhere beyond the trees. Remembering where he was, Vega pushed all other thoughts and feelings aside and rushed to locate Shepard. The chain linking the cuffs had snapped apart at some point during their descent and the Commander was nowhere in sight. Vega choked out a cry:

'Commander!' He coughed up a burning sputter of water and tried again. 'Commander!'

She emerged in a splash with a deep gasp, just a few feet away from him. Vega's heart faltered as relief filled his body. He swam to her. Shepard was fighting to keep her head above water, fighting to breathe. Vega's arms found her beneath the surface and locked around her tightly. His own pain and discomfort forgotten, he drew her with him to the shore, stumbled onto solid ground, and lowered her gently down. Her petite body was ice cold to the touch and trembling violently. Her flimsy vest and shorts were soaked to her skin. Vega noticed blood streaming from her right shoulder and he knelt beside her to take a look.

'You're shot,' he said hoarsely, his chest heaving with the strain of his waterlogged lungs.

Shepard was pale-faced and blue-lipped. Water dripped from her hair and clothing, streaking her skin and forming a puddle on the ground beneath her. She glanced down at her shoulder. She seemed dazed, barely lucid, as she stared blankly at the pouring wound. Her eyes fluttered open and shut rapidly. Her head began to drop back.

Vega tried to draw her gaze. 'Commander,' he called. 'Commander, stay with me.'

She let out a soft moan and tried to sit up. Her arms moved. A sudden cry escaped her lips and she clutched at her left arm in pain. Vega looked down at it. He saw now that it was shattered below the elbow, streaked with newly emerging bruises and limp at the wrist. The handcuff was still clamped onto it.

'Damn it!' hissed Shepard, sinking back onto the ground. 'I told you to unlock the cuffs!'

Vega gaped at her in disbelief. 'Are you serious? The only reason you're alive right now is because you were cuffed to me!'

'The only reason _you're_ alive right now is because I don't have my gun to shoot you with!'

She was blaming him for this? She was the one who had rebelled against his authority, acted independently and recklessly, risked her life because of her foolish temper. Fighting him over every decision, refusing to hand over her weapon – she was so stubborn! If roles had been reversed, Vega would have… would have…

_…done exactly the same thing._

He looked down into her furious face and saw himself there. He began to laugh.

'What is so funny?' Shepard pushed through chattering teeth.

'Anderson was right; you're just like me!'

Shepard seemed even more enraged by his amusement. She probably would have smacked him in the face, had both of her arms not been impaired. But then her thin blue lips trembled with the cold and a forceful shudder shook her body. Vega's smile faded. He reached down and got a grip around her waist, his large hands enveloping her slender trunk easily.

'Come on,' he said, and lifted her up as if she weighed nothing at all. 'Somebody will see the crash site and come to investigate. We should get over there.'

He positioned her like a baby in his arms, cradling her back with one hand and supporting her thighs with the other. She made a sound of pain as her left arm fell into her lap. The other was bleeding from the bullet wound, trailing helplessly at her side. Vega felt her cold, damp clothes press against his. Her shivering was intensifying. He willed his body to send some warmth into hers, but it was futile.

Shepard tried to move. 'I c-can walk,' she protested weakly. 'My legs are fine.'

Vega continued to carry her in the direction of the burning wreck, trudging across the marshy terrain with numb feet inside icy boots. He did not look away from the beacon of light and smoke rising up from beyond the trees.

'Relax, Commander,' he said, blinking away a droplet of water that had slipped down his forehead. 'I'm bigger and I can move faster.'

'T-there's no guarantee…' she quivered, 'that some… one will c-come…'

'Let me worry about that. In the meantime, the blaze will help us get warm and dry.'

Vega walked on. Shepard's head dropped against his chest and he could not help but glance down at her. Her face was so drained of colour that her porcelain skin now appeared ghost-like, and her features were clenched tightly in pain. Her ruined forearm lay on her stomach, beginning to swell up already. He felt oddly protective of her. In this position he could easily forget her rank and commendations, and the legendary status of her name. Here, bundled up in his arms, shivering and wounded, she was not the same person. She was vulnerable and in pain. Vega felt a rising need to take care of her.

'That was some nice shooting, by the way,' he said, trying to keep her awake. He did not like the idea of her losing consciousness in her frozen state. 'I'm impressed.'

Shepard mumbled something unintelligible. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was beginning to slow.

'Hey,' urged Vega, bobbing her up and down in his arms. 'Hey, you have to stay conscious, Commander. Talk to me, come on.'

'I seriously want to k-kill you right now,' she muttered.

Vega laughed. 'That's better.'

'If you had r-released the c-cuffs… when… when I had told you to…'

'You suck at expressing gratitude, you know.'

She snorted derisively. 'G-gratitude?'

'Yeah, you know, I did save your life.'

'I would have been f-fine…'

'You're not invincible, Commander. You can die just like any other human.'

'Yeah? Except… when I die… I c-come back.'

Vega shook his head incredulously. 'You screwed over the Illusive Man, remember? If you die this time he's not gonna help you. So you have to stay out of danger.' He looked down. 'How's your arm?'

'Bullet was a through-and-through,' she replied shakily. 'C-clean… Not enough b-blood for it to have hit an artery… so I'm not in d-danger… The other arm… h-hurts like hell.'

'I wish I'd grabbed some medigel on my way out.'

'I wish I'd grabbed some c-clothes.' She started to laugh weakly.

'Ah, I don't know about that,' Vega teased, a smirk creeping over his face. 'I'm kind of enjoying the view.'

Shepard grinned – the first positive sign from her since the attack began.

'First the insu…b-bordination, now you're… hitting on me…' She buried her face in his chest and breathed into it: 'You've got some balls, Lieutenant…'

'Thanks for noticing.'

She laughed into his wet shirt. Vega felt the warm tingle of her breath on his cold skin and a strange knot in his stomach at the sound of her laughter. He was surprised by what had just come out of his mouth. It would have been a natural reaction to any other girl in this situation, but to Commander Shepard…? And she had let him get away with it, too.

_Knock it off, pendejo,_ he chastised himself silently. _That's a dangerous route to go down. Just keep your eyes in front and your mind out of your pants…_

He picked up the pace. They had almost reached the trees and, from the look of the black smoke ahead, it was not much farther to the crash site. Shepard's trembling form was beginning to relax in his arms, her eyes closing again as she began to drift away. He glanced at her. She looked so exhausted that he was loathe to disturb her. But he had to keep her awake.

'Almost there, Commander,' he said gently. 'And look, we've got ourselves a nice little camp fire.'

Shepard made no response. Vega risked a visual sweep over her figure as she rested, unable to resist. The outfit wasn't hiding very much to begin with, but the wet fabric plastered to her skin was making it even more revealing. He could see her cold nipples through the vest. There was water creeping down her neck, sliding into the crevice between her breasts. Vega looked away quickly. Her head was against his chest, and he feared she would hear his heartbeat rising. He shifted his hands on her body awkwardly, trying to somehow carry her without actually touching her skin. It was impossible. He picked up the pace. He reasoned that the sooner he reached the site, the sooner he could release Shepard and put some distance between their bodies.

'Not far now,' he commented. 'Feel the warmth of the fire, Commander?'

She sniffed, her frozen nose wrinkling up. 'No…' she mumbled.

_Oh. That's not the fire, that's just me. Damn._

'Just a minute or two,' he lied quickly. 'We're really close.'

It was actually more like twenty minutes. When the trees finally parted to reveal the downed vehicles, Shepard was fast asleep and making little sighing noises into Vega's neck. The sounds added to the sensation of her breath upon him was driving him wild. He heard her moan softly and it sent a tremor down his spine.

_No, no, no, _his brain hissed in panic. _Put her down quick!_

He emerged into the clearing at a near-running gait and headed for the wreckage. The cars' landing had destroyed a group of trees and created a circular area of open terrain, with a blazing fire at its centre. Vega got close enough to the mutilated machines so that he and Shepard could feel the heat of the flames, but kept a safe distance in case of further explosions. He hurried to find a spot in which to plant Shepard.

'Mmm, that feels good…' she said faintly, stirring.

She was obviously referring to the welcome heat of the fire, but Vega could not head off the ideas that rose into his head at that. He lowered her to the ground by a large tree stump and eased her into a position in which her back could rest against it. He was half relieved and half disappointed to let go of her. Still a little stirred up, he took a few moments to move around the area and check for survivors or salvageable items. The Commander laid her head back against the tree stump and enjoyed the warmth.

Eventually returning to a normal state of alertness, she opened her eyes and looked around. She caught sight of Vega poking around the wreckage close to the flames.

'James,' she called to him. 'You didn't bring your OT?'

He kicked a piece of burning wood out of his way. "Fraid not,' he responded. 'I didn't have time to pick up anything on my way out.'

'Is any of the tech in working order? Communications? GPS signal?'

'Negative, Commander.' He heaved a sigh of frustration, staring hopelessly into the carnage. 'We got nothing. Looks like our only option is to wait for rescue.'

Vega ambled back over to her as she began inspecting both of her arms, assessing the damage. Her right was coated with blood from the bullet entry site, but was still functional, while the left was a mess of shattered bones and angry purple lines. It had swollen up to twice its normal size.

'You in pain?' said Vega, and cursed his stupidity as soon as the words left his mouth. It really didn't need asking.

Shepard smiled slightly. 'It's nothing I haven't dealt with before.' She glanced again at her bullet wound. 'But this one is still bleeding – I think it might need a tourniquet.'

Vega looked around blankly. There was nothing in the vicinity that could provide the needed function. He patted his wet clothes.

'Here, Commander,' he said, his hands going to the hem of his grey shirt.

He peeled away the clinging fabric from his skin and pulled the shirt over his head. Heat from the fire touched his bare torso. It was a welcome feeling as he let his skin breathe, with nothing cold and damp sticking to it. Shaking off the twinge of self-consciousness at being so exposed in front of Commander Shepard, he came to kneel beside her. She studied his body with an indiscernible expression on her face. As Vega folded the garment into a bandage, he found himself flexing his shoulders inadvertently. He just couldn't help it. He was on display and he wanted to present his assets in a way that did them justice. Shepard's gaze was following his tattoos. He could practically feel it on his skin.

'Now it's my turn to enjoy the view,' she said.

Vega looked at her in alarm. She was smiling, with one eyebrow arched suggestively. His mind went blank, his hands stopped what they were doing. He floundered for a reply. Forcing his voice to a casual level, even though inside he was freaking out, he came up with:

'If you'd wanted to see me shirtless, Commander, you could have just asked.'

The mischief in her smile deepened. 'I'll have to bear that in mind…'

Vega's heart was pounding. He was baffled and infuriated by the way his body was reacting to this simple banter. Ordinarily, he would have revelled in the attention and rode the flirting as far as it could go before pants started flying. He could reduce a woman to a limp puddle just with a couple of words, a practised look, an artful touch in just the right place. But right now all of his experience and his skills were rendered useless in the face of this tiny, pale girl with the bold eyes.

He refocused on tying the makeshift tourniquet. Shepard bit her lip as the fabric tightened painfully around her wound. Her body tensed. Vega finished tying the knot and released his grasp.

'Sorry if I hurt you,' he said quietly.

'Don't worry about it,' she replied.

Her swollen wrist was beginning to outgrow the silver cuff still locked around it. Vega fished around in his back pocket and located the key to the handcuffs. Gently, carefully, he took Shepard's wilted hand and raised it so that he could unlock her bonds. She inhaled sharply and Vega winced at the thought of her pain. Her hand in his was so very small. Her ruined arm was so slender and delicate. He felt like it was going to fall apart in his grasp. The lock released and the cuff came open with a click. Vega removed it slowly. The skin beneath it was darkly bruised.

'Sorry,' he mumbled again.

'I said it's fine, James,' the Commander said. 'I'm a marine. I can handle it.'

'No, I mean…' A surge of guilt passed over him. 'I… I screwed up. I was supposed to keep you safe, and, well… look at you.' He gestured to her bloody arm, across her filthy, torn vest, and down her other arm.

Her singed features softened. She smiled up at the self-deprecating giant of a man.

'Hey,' she whispered. 'You didn't screw up, James. You saved my life.'

'Yeah… well…'

'And I know I've been busting your balls about disobeying my orders, but you did the right thing. I'm not your CO, and I shouldn't have tried to overrule you. I'm impressed that you stuck to your guns.'

Vega was uncomfortable with the praise. It wasn't something he was accustomed to, but especially now since it was coming from Commander Shepard. He failed to come up with a suitable response. Thankfully, however, the awkwardness of the moment was overshadowed by a very welcome sight. A blue and white car had appeared over the treetops, lights aimed at their location.

'It's the Alliance,' Shepard said, looking up at the approaching vehicle. 'They must have noticed our signal go out.'

Vega stood up and waved with both arms, but the driver had already spotted them. The car eased down into the clearing. Soon the cold, tired soldiers would be back in the warm. Shepard sank down against the tree stump and let the pain do its worst, no longer bothering to fight it. The night was over. Maybe now she could finally get some sleep.


	15. Chapter 15: Safe and Sound

It was almost dawn. Vega and Shepard had been transferred to a shuttle after they were picked up by an Alliance search team. The detention centre in London compromised, they were on their way to a new secret location. So far there had been no confirmation of the identity of the group that had attacked the facility, and no word about the prisoner's next destination. There were concerns gnawing at Vega that he might be removed from the assignment once the brass received reports of Shepard's injuries. She had been attended by a team of medics and was currently resting in a cot at the back of the shuttle, just a few feet away from where Vega sat. With the help of some medigel and her super-healing Cerberus body, she would be fine in no time. But would the night's events see Vega judged unfit to guard her? He was not looking forward to the debrief. He didn't want to lose this assignment.

He looked across the shuttle deck at Shepard. The two of them were alone, while the pilot and an Alliance guard sat forward in the cockpit. The motion dampers were so efficient that it hardly felt like the shuttle was flying at all, and the deck had a calm silence about it. The Commander lay beneath the starboard view port, her eyes shut, the rising light of the sun creeping over her peaceful form. She was bundled up in a grey blanket, no longer shivering, and the colour had returned to her skin.

Vega had been there with her when the medics had arrived to treat her. When they'd begun to peel off her clothing, he had respectfully looked away. But he didn't want to. The lack of sleep and the adrenaline storm of the past few hours had weakened his resolve. The voice in the back of his mind that had been shouting at him not to entertain any ideas about the Commander was very quiet now – almost gone. In his exhausted state he could barely remember why she was off-limits to him. His thoughts were travelling in circles. His gaze kept being drawn back to her.

'Lieutenant, there's an incoming transmission from Alliance HQ.'

He glanced up at the comm screen. It was flashing. Quietly, hoping not to wake the Commander, he climbed up and touched the controls.

'Put 'em through,' he said.

The screen flickered and then it was filled with the face of David Anderson. Vega stared at the image in surprise.

'Admiral,' he said, making a quick glance back at the sleeping Commander. She had not stirred. Vega saluted Anderson across the video link. 'You heard what happened, sir?'

The dark veteran appraised him soberly. 'Lieutenant,' he greeted briefly. 'Yes, I was just told. I tracked down your comm channel immediately. Is Shepard all right?'

'Yes, sir. We managed to get out when the facility was hit. Uh… She took a bullet in the arm among other injuries… But she's okay, Admiral. She'll be fine.'

There was concern on Anderson's face. He tried to peer over Vega's shoulder, asking anxiously: 'Is she there? Is she with you?'

'Uh… Yeah… She's kind of asleep right now, Admi-'

'Anderson?' Shepard's voice rose up behind him.

Both men turned towards her. She was out of the cot, moving to the comm screen with sleepy eyes and the blanket still wrapped around her shoulders. She rustled past Vega, focused on the Admiral.

'There you are, Shepard,' said Anderson with a warm smile. 'Faked a couple of injuries just to get some R'n'R, I see…'

Shepard returned his smile. Her entire countenance seemed to brighten just at seeing her friend's face. 'You know me, sir,' she joked. 'Anything for a few more hours in bed.'

'How's Vega been treating you?'

'He's a pain in the ass, just like me.' She shot the Lieutenant a grin.

'Hey!' Vega protested.

Shepard laughed. 'No, seriously, though,' she told Anderson, her eyes still on Vega, 'I like him. He's a good kid.'

Ambivalent emotions played through Vega's mind. The two statements were like opposite ends of the scale of what he would have hoped to hear from Shepard. Affection. But for a child. Or a pet.

'I'm glad he got you out of there in one piece,' Anderson said seriously. 'From the sound of it, those intruders meant business.'

'Do we know who was behind the attack?' Shepard asked him.

'Not yet. Only one was captured alive and he's not talking.'

'You'll keep me posted, sir?'

Anderson nodded. 'Of course. Now, as for your new living arrangements,' he said, 'we've arranged a place for you in Vancouver HQ. It's not a detention facility, but it's better suited to our needs at this time. It shouldn't be as restrictive on you as the last one. The security is more focused on keeping intruders out than it is on keeping you in.'

'Sounds good. Do I get a bathroom door with a lock this time?'

'That wasn't in my run-down precisely, but you never know.'

'When will I see you there?'

'I'll be off-world for a while,' he informed her. 'But I'll pay you a visit when I get back.'

'Looking forward to it, sir.'

'Okay, then.' The Admiral looked at Vega, who had been briefly forgotten. 'Keep up the good work, Lieutenant. I'll be checking in with you as often as I can.'

Vega saluted. 'Aye, Admiral.'

'Take care, Shepard,' he said fondly.

'You too, Anderson,' the Commander replied.

The screen went dark.

Shepard stood staring at the empty display with a faint smile, momentarily lost in thought. Vega was once again struck by the clear affection that she shared with the Admiral. It was unusual to see; more like father-daughter than a superior officer with his subordinate. A notion popped into his head that the two of them might have a history together, but he dismissed it immediately. Their relationship didn't have that kind of feel to it.

He brought himself out of his reverie and rolled his heavy shoulders. Both he and Shepard were standing with and blankets draped over them, their clothes having been completely ruined. She had at least been given some fresh overalls to wear, but the staff had not been able to find anything that would fit Vega's broad frame, so he was still in his damp, tattered trousers. The Commander's boyish locks were curling up at the ends as her hair dried naturally, giving her a cute tousled appearance. Vega cleared his throat.

'How are you feeling, Commander?' he asked her.

She turned away from the comm screen and faced him. 'I'm in a good mood, Lieutenant,' she said with a smile, 'so you'd better make the most of it while you can.'

'You're in a good mood after a night of being chased, shot, blown up, and half-drowned?' Vega shook his head in amazement. 'You're a little loco, ma'am. No offence.'

'We asked for some action, remember? Looks like we got our wish.'

She pattered barefoot over to the cot and sat down, her blanket swinging around her comically. Vega smiled in spite of himself.

'Vancouver, huh…' she mused, staring out at the rushing scenery.

'You ever been there?'

'I always meant to go. It's…' Her voice trailed off and her light-hearted expression began to face away. 'It's has some significance for me…'

Vega wondered what that meant. By the sombre mist in her eyes he could tell that it was not such a positive significance. She had a hint of the same look he'd seen on the surveillance screen not long ago, when she sat huddled by the window sharing whispers with the night. He wondered. But he would not ask. Perhaps someday, in her own time and of her own want, she would share those whispers with him.


	16. Chapter 16: Relocation

The English Bay was a beautiful sight. Crystal blue water touched golden shores, arcing gracefully at the foot of the city. Elegant architecture complimented Vancouver's natural beauty, with smooth circular buildings and flowing highways. Among the buildings greenery flourished in countless parks and gardens. Towards the outer edges of the city stood vast acres of forest land, coating the view in greenery. Where the trees met the horizon, an array of silver peaks rose into the clouds and above. In a single glance an observer would be able to see the snow-capped Rockies and all the way down to the shimmering bay. Alliance Headquarters stood tall against the enchanting utopian backdrop, holding its own with the best of Vancouver's man-made structures. It shone like a beacon in the midst of the city.

As the shuttle drew near, Vega and Shepard could see the star-studded blue shield of the Systems Alliance painted bold upon the building's neck. Multiple levels featured parks and gardens, grand balconies in view of the windows. There were so many different branches of the structure that it was impossible for anyone to appreciate all of them on first sight. Vega spotted the main complex where the top Alliance officers deliberated the important matters of humanity, as well as a grand apartment block that housed hundreds of Alliance staff and their families, and a military training ground at the edge of the bay. The sun was illuminating the pearl walls surrounding the headquarters, giving them a near-white sheen. Vega glanced at Shepard and saw her eyes drinking in the gorgeous sight.

'A friend once described it to me,' she said, almost to herself. She had a wistful smile on her lips. 'Now I think I understand…'

They touched down on the roof of the main building, where a greeting party was waiting for them. Shepard lost the blanket immediately, discarding it in the shuttle before alighting. She strode down the gangplank in her plain blue overalls with no hint of injury or weakness. From there she and Vega were escorted inside. The interior was just as streamlined and visually pleasing as the rest of the construction, featuring bright floor-to-ceiling windows, polished stone floors, and sweeping staircases that meandered elegantly through the heart of the complex. Each area was clearly marked with sleek silver plaques. The entourage of Alliance personnel directed their attention to various places of interest along the way – the great doors that led to the board meeting room, the common areas where Alliance members could relax and socialise, the full-featured gym and indoor pool, shuttle service to the residential blocks, and even an Alliance-owned restaurant.

The lead officer explained to Vega and Shepard that the facility was not intended to be a prison. Shepard was restricted to this building, and there were some precautionary rules in place that she was expected to abide by, but other than that she was free to do as she pleased. Considering the size and the multiple features of the complex, it was certainly a giant step up from her previous habitat. Vega was instructed to maintain supervision of Shepard twenty four hours a day, and that he would have access to her private quarters at all times. For convenience and security purposes, his own quarters were adjacent to hers and contained a monitoring console that was similar to the one he had used before. When she wanted to leave the room, she would have to notify Vega in order that he could accompany her around the building. The Alliance was still intent on keeping Shepard away from outside communications, but that was understandable. Besides that, she was hardly a prisoner at all.

As they walked through the long, winding corridors Vega made mental notes of all the interesting spots. The thought of working out at the gym with Commander Shepard appealed to him. He would be with her whatever she chose to do and wherever she went. There was even a cinema screening room and an Alliance bar. The perks of this assignment just kept multiplying. He checked to see the Commander's expression, hoping she was as enthusiastic about this as he was. But she betrayed nothing. As usual, the public face of this infamous heroine was made of stone.

Vega was itching to be left alone with her again. He preferred the way she was when nobody else was around. When they finally arrived at Shepard's new personal quarters, he was nearly bursting with anticipation at the thought of living here with her. The two rooms assigned to Vega and Shepard were ultra modern and fully furnished. Long windows stretched the entire length of the outer wall, displaying the Canadian scenery in all its glory and brightening the interior décor. A shared kitchen suite linked the rooms, complete with breakfast bar and trendy glass stools. Both residents had their own ensuite bathroom, and Shepard was pleased to discover the simple perk of a lock on her door. The habitat was open-plan, spacious and comfortable, with a common lounge area boasting striking leather sofas, an office area with a desk and computer, and a generous sized bed in each room. The finishing touches were in the form of an entertainment system, a large bookcase, and even a few house plants.

Vega was practically holding his breath as the Alliance representatives bid them goodbye and left. The door to Shepard's new quarters slid shut and she and Vega were left alone. He was quick to speak:

'If this is Admiral Anderson's doing, then I think I'll have to kiss him next time he stops by.'

Shepard walked slowly across the room, inspecting the area with an expressionless face. 'Anderson doesn't have _that_ much sway with the board. He couldn't have done this.'

Vega shrugged. 'Maybe he greased a few wheels, cashed in some favours – I don't know. What I do know is, this is the way to be incarcerated in style…'

She did not seem as impressed with their surroundings as he was. Of course, Vega wasn't really adept at reading people, so he could be missing some subtle hint as to what she was thinking. She roamed – the same way she had done in her previous cell. She peered at things and explored places, opened drawers, tested appliances, and eventually ended up at the window. He watched her silently. Dressed in the simple, short-sleeved blue overalls that the medics had provided, both of her arms bandaged but hanging freely, nothing on her feet, she looked very un-soldier-like. Her black hair had dried in little curls around her temples and the nape of her neck. The sunshine through the massive windows shone on her like a spotlight, radiating her ivory skin. She had an almost civilian housewife appearance as she stood amidst the fine furnishings and gazed out upon the English Bay.

Vega tore himself away from the cosy scene and headed through to his quarters. The bed was far bigger than he was used to and there were definitely too many pillows. It would take some getting used to. But at least he would be able to sleep without cramming himself against the wall or falling out of the other side. Regulation bunks were always too narrow for his broad frame. He was still in his soggy trousers, with the blanket gathered around his shoulders. He needed some fresh clothes. Noticing a welcome message on the screen of his desktop computer, he moved to investigate. A touch of the keypad activated a list of options. The instructions read:

'Welcome, Lieutenant Vega. This console is set up to accommodate your needs. From here you may contact any Alliance personnel, access the extranet, and place a requisition order for items, food, or clothing. Please view one of the help topics for further information on any subject.'

Impressed, Vega accessed the requisitions list and began to browse the available stock. There were categories such as groceries, snacks, toiletries, entertainment, clothing, and more. It was all complimentary, and all set for same-day delivery. The FAQ page explained that Vega had been granted priority access to whatever he needed during his assignment and that the Alliance would be handling everything personally.

'Commander,' he called to the adjoining room. 'Come see this!'

Shepard appeared in the doorway. 'What is it?'

He motioned for her to come and take a look. She approached, leaning over his shoulder to see. Her body pressed against his back, causing him to shift away uncertainly, but she was still so close that he could feel her breath on his neck. Her hazel eyes skimmed through the information on the screen, growing increasingly dubious.

'I find this all kind of suspicious,' she said eventually, frowning at the console. 'It's like I suddenly went from criminal on lock-down to honoured guest. What's with the special treatment and the new freedoms?'

Vega had to replay in his mind what she had just said, because he had not been paying attention. He was a little unravelled by the proximity of her mouth to his ear. He rushed to think of a response.

'I still think it was the Admiral,' he managed. Barely.

'I'll ask him about it when he comes to visit. This all seems too good to be true. I want some answers.' She scrolled down the screen, looking over the requisition items thoughtfully. She arched an eyebrow as she spotted something that interested her. The cursor stopped scrolling. 'But in the meantime,' she said with a slowly growing smirk, 'we might as well enjoy ourselves…'


	17. Chapter 17: Honesty

Cigar smoke curled around the air like ethereal fingers, choking it into submission. It filled the room thickly. Empty bottles of premium whiskey littered the floor. The lounge area of the prisoner's quarters was in shambles, with spilt drinks and half-eaten bowls of numerous different desserts all over the sofa and the coffee table. The abandoned shot glasses were carrying mounds of cigar ash.

Vega was drunk. He was slumped back on the leather sofa, staring blearily at a spread of poker cards in one hand while the other hand clung to the neck of a whiskey bottle. His "winnings" were in a large pile on the table in front of him, in the form of chocolate truffles. Commander Shepard sat across from him in the reclining armchair, her feet up on the table just inches away from her own collection of truffles. She was grinning like a fool as she peered at her cards, her head swaying ever so slightly. She wore a brand new outfit – charcoal jeans and a black v-neck tee with a leather jacket in dark red – which made her look shockingly normal. Vega had been a little turned on to see her in trendy civilian clothes, licking double chocolate ice-cream off of the back of a spoon as she lay back in the recliner with a contented smile. But now he had downed a lot of alcohol and was _extremely_ turned on.

In his drunken state he was beginning to forget who this exciting woman actually was. Now more than ever she was without rank or status. He had dropped the "Commander" a few drinks back, and was now spilling Spanish pet-names like a true Latin lover. Shepard seemed to be enjoying the care-free atmosphere. She was being very playful, bordering on flirtatious. Vega's weakening inhibitions were falling beneath her sparkling gaze.

'Y'know what would make this game… more interesting?' he asked, picking up a new card and adding it to his fanned out hand. Somewhere in the back of his mind there was a little warning voice drowning in whiskey.

Shepard popped one of the truffles in her mouth. 'Mmm?' she said.

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. 'If we make it strip poker.'

The inebriated Commander sniggered and covered her mouth with her cards. She eyed Vega conspiratorially over the rim. 'Why, James,' she purred, 'I do believe you're trying to get me naked.'

'Who me?' he feigned innocence.

'You're easily kicking my ass at this. So the same game with higher stakes wouldn't be of much interest to me.' She lowered her hand and faced him challengingly. 'How about a different kind of game to level the playing field?'

His ears perked up at the possibility of mischief. 'Name it, _chica_.'

Shepard laid her cards down, forgotten. She raised the recliner to allow her to lean forward over the table. Watching Vega beneath smirking lashes, she said:

'We each give three personal statements about ourselves or our lives. Two will be lies. The other person has to guess which one statement is true.' She bit her lower lip naughtily. 'Choose correctly and the person has to remove an item of clothing.'

'_Que venga, mamita_.'

'I'll take that as a yes.'

'Def'nitely.'

He nearly threw his cards away in his rush to begin the new game. The room was rolling unstably in his vision. He crouched forward and waited for his eyes to refocus, facing Shepard with rapidly increasing anticipation.

'Ladies first,' he said, with a faint slur.

She touched one finger to her chin thoughtfully. After a few moments she nodded and said: 'Got it. Here we go…' She cleared her throat dramatically. 'One: the first time I killed a man, I was only fourteen years old. Two: my first inter-species sexual experience was with an asari stripper.' She smiled when she saw Vega's expression at that. 'And three: my first love was David Anderson.'

Vega was stunned. Those were all pretty intense admissions, no matter which was the true statement. His mind, slowed by alcohol, lingered on the thought of Shepard with an asari stripper and was temporarily unable to move beyond it. She watched him with evident amusement. Seconds passed. Vega blinked and tried to get rid of the extremely appealing image of the intertwined feminine forms, blue melding with white, in a whirlwind of lust. He managed to shove it into a mental box for later. He considered the possibility that Shepard had a history with Admiral Anderson that went beyond professional. That would explain the affection he had already noticed between them. But it seemed… different… Not that kind of affection. The other option was a fourteen-year-old Shepard killing a man. Far-fetched? Just because she was a skilled warrior now, it didn't necessarily mean she had been capable of killing at a young age.

'So?' the Commander said, looking rather smug. 'You gonna pick one?'

Vega cracked his knuckles as he deliberated. 'Ah…' he hummed. 'Those are some wild claims, _chica_. But you got a better poker face at this than you did at actual poker… I'm kinda torn. Um…' He pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'Okay. Just 'cause I'm hoping this one is true, I'm gonna go with you and the asari stripper.'

Shepard threw her head back and laughed. 'I knew you were going to say that!' she crowed. 'You're so predictable, James! And wrong!'

'_Damn_.'

She flapped the collar of her jacket mockingly. 'Sorry, big boy, but this stays on.'

Vega dropped back on the sofa with a groan. 'I'm being hustled, ain't I?'

'Yup. Your turn, Lieutenant.'

'Hey, hey, you didn't say which one was the truth!'

She waved a finger from side to side. 'Not how this works. You didn't earn the answer.'

'So now you're not gonna tell me if you had the hots for Anderson or you bumped off a guy when you were a kid? I have to wonder forever?'

'Correct.' She tossed a chocolate truffle into her mouth. 'Come on, woman. Less bitching, more stripping.'

'Who says you're gonna get me to strip? I might fool you yet.'

'Your three statements. Go.'

'Okay, okay.' He rubbed his stiff beard as he considered his play carefully. Shepard clearly had the advantage when it came to intelligence, but Vega could be quite convincing when he was spinning a tale. 'I have my dead cat's name tattooed on my _culo_…'

'Wait,' she stopped him. 'That doesn't mean-'

'Ass.'

'Oh.' She feigned a relieved motion of wiping the sweat from her brow. 'Go on.'

'Next, I lost my virginity when I was twelve.' He went on, watching her reaction closely. 'And last one is: I used to be addicted to red sand.'

Shepard was intrigued. She weighed the possibilities aloud: 'Judging from the tattoos that I can see, I think you're the type of guy who gets abstract designs that look good, rather than tattoos with any intimate meaning. I don't think you'd have a name done – human or cat.'

Her first instinct was dead on. Vega smiled at her intuitiveness. He said nothing, though, while he waited for her next observation.

'I've seen former red sand addicts up close,' she continued reflectively, 'and it shows, even years later. You're not one of them. I don't think you've ever touched a hard drug in your life.'

Now _that_ was impressive. Most people tended to assume by the tattoos, the scars, and the tough-guy persona that Vega was some kind of criminal or junkie. Truth was, he had never been tempted by narcotics. Growing up with a no good drug-addict father was all the convincing he'd needed to stay away from that stuff. Shepard was incredibly perceptive.

'That leaves option number two,' she said. 'You're very proud of your appearance, quick to flirting, and you carry around some serious childhood abandonment issues as clear as day. I'd say you approach sex casually and don't get emotionally attached.' She passed her gaze over him from head to toe as he sat with a look of growing panic on his face. 'You're the kind of person who threw yourself into sex at an early age in a bid to find meaning and acceptance. So when you said you lost your virginity at twelve, I'm inclined to believe you.'

Vega had stopped breathing. The woman was reading his mind. He felt exposed, completely naked and vulnerable beneath her calm scrutiny. How the hell had she worked out all of that in the few days that she had known him? He hadn't even spoken about his childhood! And he hadn't been half as flirtatious with her as he usually was with women! The way she had sized him up and revealed the summary of his life… it was unnerving. Swallowing against the dryness of his throat, Vega tried to keep his fears from his face.

'Uh…' he stammered, looking away quickly. 'I, uh, don't know about all the psych mumbo-jumbo… but, yeah, you got the answer right.'

'Thought so.'

'Hell, do you always over-think things like that?' He was attempting to downplay the fact that she had just flipped through him like a children's book.

Shepard shrugged, completely ignoring the question. Instead, she gestured to his body. 'The shirt,' she said directly. 'I want it off.'

He was coming unravelled at all sides. Adding a distinct touch of arousal to his chaotic emotions at the way she had commanded him like that, he felt his face turning warm. He glanced down at his new white t-shirt hesitantly.

'It's not exactly a fair match,' he protested in a tight voice. 'You're wearing twice as many layers as I am.'

'Are you going to take it off, or am I gonna have to come over there and do it myself?'

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Damn, that strict voice of hers was _hot_. He pinched back a smile. Slowly, and with more embarrassment than he had imagined, he lifted the t-shirt up over his head and pulled it off. The Commander observed the sight of his bare torso with a predatory glint in her eye. She made a low sound of approval in the back of her throat, and her lips curled up at one corner.

'I have to say, Lieutenant,' she breathed, 'I much prefer you without the shirt.'

Even in his inebriated state, Vega was surprised. Commander Shepard was literally leering at his half-naked body. He could see a hint of colour filling her cheeks. He felt like he had wandered into some kind of freakish dream world, or an alternative dimension. This could not be happening.

_She's getting turned on, _Vega thought in disbelief. _Holy shit, the Commander is totally into me!_

He crossed one leg over the other, struggling to remain calm and cool while rushing to think of something to say.

'It's your turn, _amiga_,' he came up with at last. He could barely hear his own voice over the blood rushing through his ears. 'Hit me.'

Shepard chewed her lip as she thought about it. Her hazel-green eyes were still simmering over the Lieutenant's bare chest. 'I'll make it easier for you this time,' she said charitably. 'I'd hate to be the only one having fun. You ready?'

He nodded speechlessly.

'First: I've never worn a dress in my life. Second: I've never gotten a tattoo before. And third: I've never told a man "I love you".'

Vega was desperate to win this one. He was so worked up now that even getting her to take off her jacket seemed like the sexiest thing in the galaxy. He took a quick gulp of whiskey before attempting to kick his sluggish brain into gear.

'No problem,' he growled through the bitterness of the liquid slipping down the back of his throat. 'I think you've worn dresses before – you know you've got a good body, and I'm sure you like to show it off sometimes. Tattoos… Yeah, you're definitely the type. The new skin Cerberus gave you might have covered 'em up, but they're there somewhere.' He paused as he came to the more serious option. 'You're a soldier to the core. We've got no time for love and shit. I'm willing to bet you've never said those three big words.'

She smiled and raised her bottle in way of a toast. 'Congratulations, Lieutenant,' she said. 'You got it right. You may now choose a piece of clothing for me to remove.'

Vega leaned forward in anticipation. His eyes scanned her outfit, searching for the most opportune item for displaying that tempting figure. He could choose her jeans, leaving her in whatever kind of panties she was wearing underneath. That idea was hot. Or there was the jacket – but removing that would only show the shirt beneath it. He needed to play this one smartly. He licked his lips.

'The t-shirt,' he said with a grin.

She tugged the corner of her jacket questioningly.

'Uh-uh.' He shook his head. 'Not the jacket. The t-shirt underneath.'

Shepard raised an eyebrow. Smiling mischievously, she looked down at her black tee between the unzipped folds of her jacket. 'You want this off, you'll have to look away while I remove the jacket first. Then the jacket goes back on. It's one item only, remember?'

'I know.' He couldn't stop grinning.

'Turn around, then.'

He did so. The sound of her slipping out of her leather jacket was intoxicating. He tensed his jaw, wishing he could take a peek as she removed her top. He resisted the urge. The leather slid back over her skin.

'Done,' she said.

Vega turned. His gaze trailed down her neck to the plunging bra beneath. The jacket was open at the front – just as he had hoped – and a decadent amount of cleavage was on display. Between her white satin breasts there was just a tiny black clasp holding back the mounds that threatened to spill out. Partially transparent lace in a floral pattern decorated the cups, but the jacket was covering the two important points. Her bare abdomen had a shadow of muscle tone – not so much that it appeared masculine, but enough to reveal her incredible level of physical fitness. Vega's eyes lingered on her bellybutton for a moment, before rising again to the luscious curve between her breasts.

'_Santa Maria_,' he whispered unintentionally.

Shepard smirked at him. 'I'm a saint now?'

Vega had forgotten that her first name was Marie. He laughed – partly because of his rattled nerves. 'It's just an expression,' he said, feeling his body heating up. 'I didn't mean you personally. Although, you could be a goddess, sure…'

'Hah! You're easily impressed, Lieutenant.'

'Take a compliment, _bella_.'

She lifted her whiskey bottle to her smiling lips. After having a sip, she said: 'That's something I've never been good at.'

'How come?' His eyes flickered up from her round breasts.

'Because I've learned that ninety-nine percent of what comes out of a man's mouth is a lie.'

'Ouch.' He studied her cynical smile. 'You've been running with the wrong men.'

'Is that right?'

'Hell yeah. We're not all like that, you know.'

'Let me ask you something, then. How many girls have you ever told they were special?'

Vega grimaced at the question. He was hesitant to admit that there had been quite a few. 'Well… I…' he fumbled.

'Exactly,' she said with satisfaction. 'In my experience, men use words like "special" and "beautiful" and "love" to get what they want, and that's all.'

She was bitter. The alcohol was bringing up all the bitterness and regret and sending it rampaging. Vega could see that her good mood was swiftly ebbing away. He wanted to get back to the playful, sexy Shepard of the previous few minutes. She was right there, inside the black lace, the heaving chest, the silken skin… But there was also a desire within him to know about the source of all her bitterness. He faltered at the moral crossroads. And then he decided to follow the paragon within him.

'Somebody hurt you pretty bad,' he said quietly, leaning forward. 'Didn't they?'

Shepard took a generous swig of whiskey. 'He didn't hurt me,' she insisted. 'I never opened myself up to get hurt. Saved myself a world of pain.'

'Come on,_ bella_, I know a broken heart when I see one.'

'Like I said, I've never been in love.'

'No, you said you've never told somebody you loved them. There's a difference.'

She shifted in her seat uncomfortably, glancing around so as to avoid looking at him directly. 'I don't know why you're so interested,' she complained, becoming defensive. 'This isn't part of the game.'

'I know it's not. Just asking.'

She sighed. 'It was nothing special,' she said dismissively. 'Well, he said it was. But, of course… that was a lie…'

Vega listened in silence, waiting for her to continue in her own time. He felt surprisingly sober as she began to speak, as if his mind and body were focusing on her every word, trying to absorb it all carefully. The following morning he didn't remember very much about that night, beyond the first few rounds of whiskey and the silly games. But there was one thing that stayed with him, and when all the alcohol was out of his system and his mind was back to full functionality, he could still recall it clearly. It was Shepard's voice saying:

'No one had ever looked at me with the kind of wonder and adoration that I saw in his eyes. He told me I made him feel human… Until then I had never believed in love – I couldn't… I couldn't trust anyone. But he was different. So I trusted him. I loved him. And when I needed him the most, he just… walked away.'


	18. Chapter 18: Crossing Boundaries

Sounds of running shoes thumping on the treadmills and the clinking of weights echoed throughout the gym, accompanied by laboured breaths and grunts of exertion. Soldiers of varying ranks and genders manned the equipment. The scale of the facility was immense, with every kind of fitness aid one could ever need. It housed multiple sports rooms, boxing rings, extreme simulators, and exercise equipment, with access to further amenities such as a pool and a sauna. Teams of young recruits were being whipped into shape by drill instructors, while professional physical therapists supplied beneficial treatments to more senior members. This was not a place for civilians or casual workouts – this was where Alliance marines came to test and improve their stamina, strength, and battle-readiness.

Shepard had been practically living in the gym for the past three days. She worked out constantly, and barely seemed to take breaks. Her permanent presence in this area of the building meant that Vega was also spending most of his days and nights here. He was okay with that, since he was somewhat obsessive when it came to keeping fit, and it gave him the chance to work some of the tension out of his body. Shepard's company was a huge bonus – he could admit that only to himself.

They were fun together, playing an electrifying little back-and-forth that was really keeping Vega on his toes. There was an air of sexual tension between them, but the Commander was smart enough to keep him on the edge of certainty. It was difficult to know what she really thought of him. Half of the time she was like a friend, a fellow soldier, with a love of the fight, the challenge, the game. She and Vega fought like adolescent boys. The other half of the time she was this vivacious, feminine young woman who could bring a blush to Vega's cheeks like no one else. He was gradually learning her moods, her unique expressions, and how to read her signals. This was the most thought and attention he had ever given to any task in his life. He had surprised himself. But, then, how many people get the opportunity to see Commander Shepard this close and personal?

Outside of the doors of their shared accommodation, Shepard was a proud warrior. Her public face was one of stone and shadow. She even paused every time before exiting their quarters to remove her support bandages, the purpose of which, Vega could only assume, was to show no sign of weakness to the galaxy outside. It seemed to have the desired effect, because no one ever dared approach her, and Alliance soldiers who recognised her would salute sharply as she walked by.

Today she had just finished a long stint on the treadmill when she stepped down and began to wrap her hands in padded gauze. Vega saw her eyeing the nearby punch bag.

'Commander,' he said in a warning tone. 'What're you doing?'

Shepard was dressed in camo combats and a tight black tank top. Her unruly hair was matted down with sweat, and her skin was coated in a fine sheen. Droplets trickled down her neck and chest. She was panting, breathing in deeply through her nose and letting out heavy breaths from her open mouth. The sight, while familiar by now, never failed to get Vega's blood pumping. He watched her roll her well-toned shoulders and punch her fists together.

'Working out,' she replied simply.

She headed for the punching bag. Vega followed.

'Not a good idea, Commander,' he told her. 'Your arms still need to heal.'

Shepard circled the suspended bag with a determined set to her jaw. 'Save it, Vega. I'm fine.'

One of her arms showed the remains of the damage that had been caused by the gunshot, while the other was still speckled with bruises. Medigel and surgery had repaired the broken bones, but a normal human would be unable to use the arm properly for weeks. Even though Shepard was by no means normal, she was still taking a big risk.

'Hey,' Vega objected, stepping in between her and the punch bag. He crossed his arms and stared her down. 'No boxing 'til you're back to peak condition.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'Move out of my way.'

'No. Get back on the treadmill or hit the showers.'

'James, I'm going to punch something, and right now you're volunteering.'

He did not budge. He was not intimidated in the least.

Shepard was a very stubborn woman, and she was not accustomed to being told what to do and what not to do. There was an element of pride to it. If the boxing idea had been a passing fancy a few seconds ago, it was now an incontestable desire. She stepped around Vega and edged close to the punch bag. He could see that she fully intended to ignore him. Her shoulder blades flexed in preparation.

Vega snatched her first punch before it struck the bag. Shepard looked at him as he gripped her slender wrist, indignation and disbelief filling her eyes. She tried to pull back, but he was too strong.

'Let go,' she said in a low voice.

'Give up on the boxing idea.'

'No.' She made another tug against him to no avail. Her gaze skimmed the room briefly, checking to see if anybody was watching. There was a hint of embarrassment in her expression.

'I'm not gonna let you wreck your arms, Commander,' he told her quietly, trying not to draw attention to the situation. 'They have to heal.'

'What are you, my doctor?' she snapped. 'Or my big brother? Dammit, James, I'm this close to wrecking your _face_…'

He was unmoved. 'Calm down, _hefe_. Let's just find something else to do, no?'

She swung at him with her free arm, but he was ready for that. He stopped her fist with one large hand and locked his fingers over it. Shepard was trapped. Her temper was flaring, so hot that her eyes looked about ready to burst into flame. Vega steeled himself to receive a savage kick.

'You have three seconds to let go of me, James,' she pushed through clenched teeth. 'Otherwise I'm going to hurt you.'

This was not going to end well. Vega weighed his options carefully, disinclined to let Shepard bust her healing bones, but knowing full well that she had no intention of backing down. And the idea of taking a boot in the groin did not appeal to him. He scanned her reddened face quickly and came to a decision.

'Time to take you home,' he grunted, and picked her up by the waist.

As he slung her over his shoulder, he made sure to clamp an arm over her ankles to prevent her kicking out at him. But she was too shocked to do anything. Folded like a garment across his broad shoulder, her upper body draping down his back, Shepard hung motionlessly in stunned silence. Vega walked swiftly towards the exit.

He passed a smattering of baffled soldiers and ignored their stares. A few of them sniggered. Vega stepped through the automatic doors and emerged out onto the public walkway. He wished he could see the Commander's face. She was being extremely quiet and had, as yet, not moved at all. Marching in the direction of their shared apartment, Vega began to second-guess himself. Had this been necessary? Perhaps he had been too over-protective and should have simply let her use the punching bag. His dramatic response to the disagreement could have actually made matters worse. Was she going to beat the crap out of him once they reached the apartment? Was she angry? Or had he humiliated her?

_Damn… _The thought of publicly shaming the Commander was not pleasant. Vega cursed his ridiculous actions. He picked up the pace, anxious to reach the privacy of Shepard's quarters so that he could release her and apologise. People were looking at them as they passed. Vega's sense of guilt was rising as he tried to picture Shepard's embarrassment. The famous galactic hero, never allowing a speck of weakness to mar her public face, and she was being dragged away like a recalcitrant child in preparation for a spanking. He was pretty sure that nobody had ever dared do this to her before. Nobody was this stupid.

By the time they reached the door to their temporary home, Vega was awash with doubt and self-condemnation. He swept through the door, elbowed the panel that made it close behind them, and tried to swallow his nerves as he planted Shepard down on the sofa. She dropped against the leather surface on her back and Vega straightened slowly, dreading the face he was about to see.

'Commander, I didn't-' he began apologetically.

Before he could stand up fully, Shepard grabbed his neck and pulled him down into a rough kiss. The galaxy blurred. Vega fell onto the Commander's sweat-soaked body and felt her lips hard against his own. His mouth was pushed open with a hungry, probing tongue. Shock froze him in place as he fought to comprehend what was happening.

Shepard kissed him ravenously, biting on his lip and sighing into his mouth with uncontrollable passion. Her hands twisted the folds of his shirt. Her legs locked forcefully around his hips, dragging him down. Vega's skin ignited with the heat of hers, and his blood came to boiling point. He melted into her, giving in to the intense pleasure that she was showering upon him, and returned her kiss with fervour. Her back arched sharply at the feeling of his fast arousal. She made a lusty sound in the back of her throat and it sent shivers down his body.

_Is this a dream?_ The question spun in the tornado of Vega's mind, unwelcome, unwanted. He refused to consider it. In this instant, this was his reality. He wanted nothing else. He could taste the salty sweat of her skin as he cupped his mouth around hers, inhaling her steaming breath, wrestling her hot tongue ferociously. Her hands swept up underneath his shirt and sampled his tight abdominal muscles. The softness, the greed, the curiosity of her fingertips over his flesh made him ache all over. He needed more.

Taking control, he grabbed hold of her chin in one powerful hand and pinned her head back against the seat. Then he engulfed her unprotected throat with an open mouth. Her vocal cords reverberated against his tongue as he sucked on her, releasing a low growl of delight. Vega kissed all along her jawline and delved down the sides of her neck. She was writhing beneath him, her hands roaming frantically over his back under the fabric, pulling him, drawing him in tighter and tighter against her body.

'Oh, God..' she gasped, her voice trembling with need. 'Yes, James…'

His name upon her excited breath made him weak in the knees. He moved his kisses further down, his tongue snatching the perspiration that was running down between her breasts. Shepard clung to his shoulders as he worked. He brought his hands along either side of her figure, feeling the dip of her curves, the squeeze of her muscles. He dragged the hem of her top as he went, lifting it above her navel. He reached the rim of her breasts and time seemed to slow. Shepard was holding onto him, waiting for him to initiate the next step. She was staring up into his eyes, lips parted with breathless arousal, the shimmer of his kisses still wet on her throat.

Vega was burning – from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, he was burning. Being outside of her body was becoming physically painful. He wanted her. He could not bear another minute without having her. He grabbed the front of her tank top and prepared to tear it apart, and she clenched her jaw in agonised anticipation.

A chime sounded at the door.

Vega jerked upright so fast he almost fell off of the sofa. Shepard wrenched herself out from underneath him and scrambled away, her flushed face taut with panic. The guilt-ridden couple rushed to hide every hint of the wild encounter; Shepard hurriedly fixed her hair and wiped at her mouth and neck, while Vega adjusted his incredibly tight pants. He threw himself into the nearby armchair and grabbed a cushion to hold over his throbbing manhood. The door chimed again. Shepard gave Vega a terrified nod.

'Uh… Yeah, uh… Come in!' Vega called, looking away from Shepard's gaze.

The door release lit up in response to his vocal prompt. It came open with a hiss.

Admiral Anderson appeared, and Vega felt his stomach turn. He just prayed that the Admiral would not be as perceptive today as he usually was…


	19. Chapter 19: Another Protector

'Shepard, I need to talk to you,' said Anderson, coming to sit on the sofa. 'There's something you ought to know.'

Thankfully, he did not seem to notice that Vega was not standing up and saluting him. If he had, he would have seen a hell of a lot more than just a raised hand. Vega sank into the cool leather armchair, holding onto the cushion as if it he were completely naked underneath it. He willed his mind and body to settle down. It wasn't working.

He kept looking at Shepard, still sweaty from her work out, arms folded across her heaving chest. She was fighting to regain control, just as he was. When she spoke her voice was thick and somewhat strained:

'Would you give me a minute, Anderson? I've just got back from the gym and I haven't a chance to catch my breath.'

The Admiral nodded, stocky shoulders leaning back against the sofa. 'If you need to get showered and changed, I can wait,' he replied.

She disappeared into the bathroom. Vega watched the door close behind her. He forgot about the Admiral for a few seconds as he stared at the spot where she had just stood, still picturing her image there. His thoughts were all over the place, but they were all chasing after Shepard.

'Lieutenant?'

He blinked and glanced at Anderson.

'Is everything okay?' the older man asked him, studying his flushed features.

Vega's mouth opened and closed a few times without making a sound. He rubbed his neck nervously and scanned the room for some inspiration. 'Uh, yeah… sure,' he babbled clumsily. 'Sure, Admiral. Uh… You know, just finished, uh, at the gym. Kinda wiped out… It was a tough session.'

There was a shadow of suspicion in Anderson's dark eyes, but he didn't pursue it. Instead, he said: 'How are you both liking the new set-up?'

'It's good… Really good.' Vega tried a deep, soothing breath. 'More freedom than the other place. The Commander is… uh, in a good mood. I think she likes it here.'

'I'm glad to hear it.'

'We… we weren't expecting you so soon. Is there some news?'

Anderson folded his hands in his lap. 'Big news,' he confirmed. 'But I'll wait for Shepard before I tell you about it.'

The wait was torture. The two men sat without speaking, and the only sound they could hear was the running water of the shower beyond the bathroom door. Vega was still in a state of semi-arousal, and the thought of Shepard showering right now was not helping. His mind was shooting off a list of Spanish profanities at the absurd timing of the Admiral's visit. All he wanted was for Anderson to leave so that he and Shepard could get back to business. Not that sex was the only thing he was impatient for – he also needed answers. He wanted to ask Shepard what the hell had just happened, and what would happen afterwards. For all he knew, the Commander could be looking for a one-time-only stress relieving fling, after which the relationship would revert back to a purely professional arrangement.

Perhaps that was what he wanted, too. After all, his experience with relationships was a long line of distrust, complications, and heart-break. He wasn't sure that he was ready to let another woman into his life. And Commander Shepard? She had seen and done things that Vega could not even imagine. She had the respect and awe of millions. She was intelligent, strong, beautiful, courageous… What did he possibly have to offer a woman like that? Even if he was interested in a real relationship with her – which he had not decided yet – then why would she want that? It was far more plausible that the Commander was simply seeking a carnal distraction. She was bored, she was frustrated, and she was on edge. A quick roll in the hay with a man tough enough to handle her was probably all she wanted.

The water stopped running. The silence plunged deeper. Vega steeled himself to face the sight of Shepard again. He did not look at Anderson, for fear that the Admiral would see the battle of emotions that was taking place behind his eyes.

When the bathroom door opened, Vega held his breath. Shepard stepped out, wrapped in a white towelling bath robe. She did not seem self-conscious at all as she came to sit across from Admiral Anderson, rubbing the hood of the robe roughly against her hair. Vega was glad he still had the cushion over his lap, because when Shepard crossed her legs he saw the robe fall open at her thigh and realised she was naked underneath. She tweaked it back into a modest position and faced Anderson with a serious expression.

'What is it?' she inquired. 'What's happened?'

The Admiral leaned forward in his seat like a man about to reveal a vital secret. 'There have been some developments in your case,' he said gravely. 'I came to tell you personally.'

'Bad news?' Shepard asked him.

'Not exactly.' Anderson rubbed his hands together as he arranged the words before beginning. 'Some information was uncovered recently. I now know that you were deliberately withholding things about your mission in the Bahak system.' Before Shepard could refute this accusation, he held up a hand and went on: 'The information you neglected to include in your preliminary statement has now been brought to the attention of the board. It's what caused them to, in effect, upgrade your living arrangements.'

Vega saw that Shepard was just as lost as he was. She stared at the Admiral blankly.

'I don't see how it's related,' she said, shaking her head.

'Major Alenko met with an agent of the Shadow Broker last week.'

'Major?' Her body language changed instantly. Vega did not recognise the name, but it was evident that she did. She came forward, gazing intently at Anderson. 'You mean Kaidan? What does he have to do with all this?'

'Alenko was searching for anything that might help with your case. Somehow he made contact with the Shadow Broker and used the Broker's resources to track down some interesting evidence. It showed that you were not solely responsible for the destruction of the Bahak system, and that the mission was approved beforehand by parties higher up the chain of command.'

'The Alliance sent you to blow up that relay?' Vega blurted out in disbelief. 'And the whole thing is being pinned on you?'

'No,' Shepard said quickly. 'No, that's not true. Anderson, I didn't mention it before because nobody ordered me to do anything. I acted independently. It wasn't an Alliance mission.'

'I heard the recording, Shepard,' the Admiral told her. 'You weren't _directly_ ordered, but the Alliance knew about the mission. Not only did they not try to stop you, but there were high-ranking individuals who gave you vital intel that allowed you to do what you did.'

Shepard passed a hand over her eyes in displeasure. 'What's going to happen to those officers?' she asked grimly.

'Nothing. The Alliance doesn't want this to come out, Shepard. They're convinced that the other races would turn on us if it became public knowledge that the human military were responsible for all those batarian civilian deaths. They offered Alenko and the Shadow Broker a deal.'

'You gotta be shitting me!' Vega snapped, jumping out of his seat. He was so angry he had forgotten everything else. 'They're gonna cover this up? Let Shepard take the fall?'

'Calm down, Lieutenant,' said Anderson steadily. 'I haven't finished.'

Vega muttered a Spanish curse under his breath and dropped back into his chair with a scowl. As if the Commander's situation was not unjust already, now the Alliance was denying culpability and blaming it on her? He was livid. He wanted to get his hands on a weapon so that he could shoot the hell out of this room.

Anderson continued in a neutral voice: 'For the protection of the Alliance and the continued peace between the Council races, they agreed to maintain the public front of you being the sole perpetrator of the crime. Alenko and the Shadow Broker demanded some conciliations – one of which was that you be moved to this location and be given more freedom. They insisted that the death penalty and court marshal be taken off the table entirely, and that if you were sentenced to imprisonment it would be in an Alliance facility, not a detention centre. The Shadow Broker asked that one of his agents represent you legally throughout the trial.'

Vega was confused. 'Wait, why would the Shadow Broker care about this? I thought he was just an information salesman.'

He saw the hint of a smile at the corner of Shepard's mouth. She was gazing down at the floor with a far-away look in her eyes. 'The Shadow Broker and I are old friends,' she said softly.

'That explains a lot,' said Anderson. 'I had been wondering that myself. So… he can be trusted?'

She nodded. 'Implicitly.'

'Good.' The Admiral straightened his uniform absently. 'He'll be gathering anything that might help reduce your sentence even further. But the public are still calling for harsh punishment, Shepard. There's only so much the board can do before people start complaining about leniency. Alenko is fighting them – even jeopardising his own career. He's agreed not to release the evidence that would implicate the Alliance for now, but he's made it damn clear that he'll do whatever it takes to get you acquitted.'

Vega had no idea who this Major Alenko was, but it was clear that he was on Shepard's side. Somebody she had served under previously? But she had been the commanding officer during her time on the Normandy – after Anderson, of course – and the only CO of hers that he remembered the vids mentioning was Major Kyle back on Torfan. Who was Major Alenko?

'So,' Shepard said, recapturing Vega's attention, 'this whole case is now just a smokescreen to keep the heat off of the Alliance? It's just for the benefit of the public, not a serious criminal case any more?'

'In a way, yes,' Anderson replied. 'You are still the face of the Bahak destruction. The galaxy will be watching your trial intently, waiting for justice to be met. The board just want to satisfy the mob. You're not off the hook yet, Shepard. And, technically, you're still a prisoner.'

'I doubt I'll be re-instated at the end of this. That wouldn't sit well with the other races.'

'Unfortunately, I believe you're right.'

She slumped back in the chair and closed her eyes wearily. The news seemed to be weighing her down more than giving her hope. Vega was struck by how defeated she looked. She faced a lighter sentence and less constrictive incarceration, she had loyal friends on the outside fighting for her, but none of that seemed to ease her mind. He supposed he could understand it a little. A dedicated soldier realising she could never return to that life. Even if she gained her freedom she would be lost without her career in the Alliance. In her shoes, Vega would be disappointed, too. But it was more than that. The lines at the sides of her mouth and eyes, the knot of her brow, the sigh that escaped her lips… Something else was affecting her.

'Major Alenko wanted me to give you something,' Anderson said suddenly.

Shepard glanced at him. Her body had gone rigid.

'Lieutenant Vega will have to run a routine scan and check through its contents beforehand,' he told her, reaching into his inner pocket. 'Alenko was lucky they allowed him to send you something at all.' He held up a small data module and handed it to Vega. 'Here.'

Vega looked at the module and then at Shepard. Her intense gaze was fixed on the small piece of tech, deep and unknown emotions swirling within them. He ran his fingers over the tip of the data drive as his mind turned.

'Once you've inspected it thoroughly,' Anderson instructed him, 'you can let Shepard access it on your console.'

The Admiral straightened and prepared to leave. Vega was surprised that his visit had been so brief, but he was certainly not disappointed. The sooner he was gone, the sooner he and Shepard could pick up from where they had left off.

'I've got a meeting with the board this afternoon,' Anderson said. 'Hopefully I can get a better read on the direction this thing is headed in.'

'Will you be staying in Vancouver?' Shepard asked him, standing up to shake her friend's hand.

'Tonight, at least. I'll stop by tomorrow morning.'

'All right.' She gave him a small smile. 'Thanks, David.'

The Admiral gazed at her warmly for a moment, before patting her shoulder and looking over at Vega. 'See you tomorrow, Lieutenant,' he said.

Vega was now able to stand and salute, and he did so. He watched Anderson exit the apartment and the door slid shut behind him. He and Shepard were left alone.

He stood there turning the data drive over in his hand, attempting to gauge the situation before he made a move. Shepard was facing the door, her expression unreadable. Vega's eyes wandered down her bathrobe and back up again. He felt suddenly nervous. Should he say something? Should he just take her wordlessly, throw her down onto the sofa, and resume their passionate embrace? Did she want to talk things over? Her thoughts seemed so far away right now that he wondered if he had lost her. He wished she would give him some kind of sign. What was he supposed to do?

Seconds slipped away and the Commander was unmoved. Vega couldn't bear the uncertainty or the silence any longer. He pushed the data module into his pocket and approached Shepard from behind. His heart began to drum up towards the speed it had reached when he'd held her in his arms. He stepped up close to her and breathed in the intoxicating scent of her freshly shampooed hair. His hands skimmed the edges of the soft bathrobe. Memories of her lips on his filled his mind. The taste of her skin, the touch of her fingertips…

He brought his arms around her waist and drew himself against her slowly, carefully. She made no move or sound in response. Vega held her more tightly and lifted one of his hands to the neck of her robe, gathering it away from her skin. He leaned in and touched his mouth to her exposed neck. He felt her body finally react. She took in a sharp breath through her nose and stiffened against him.

'James…' she whispered.

It was not the same as when she had gasped his name in a wave of pleasure. It was a sad, regretful sound. Vega lifted his face away from her neck.

'What is it?' he asked quietly, a sinking feeling within him.

Shepard sighed and closed her eyes. Whatever she was about to say, Vega knew almost certainly that he did not want to hear it. He kept hold of her in some kind of desperate attempt to delay the inevitable, hoping against hope that she would not move away. But she did.

Drawing back to arms length, Shepard turned to face him. Her eyes were full of guilt.

'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I shouldn't have pressured you like that. I shouldn't have initiated anything.'

Vega pursed his lips tightly, trying to keep the disappointment from his face. 'Changed your mind, _bella_?' he replied.

She nodded sadly. 'It was a mistake. I don't know what I was thinking.'

'No problem. Heat of the moment, that's all.' He forced a light-hearted smile and shrugged his heavy shoulders. 'That's what happens when two hot people share close quarters.'

'James, I…' she began.

Vega held up his hands to stop her. 'Hey, no need for that, señorita,' he bluffed. 'We're good. Just forget about it.'

His poker face must have been rather convincing, because Shepard seemed relieved at his reaction. Her face relaxed into the faintest of smiles.

'I'm not usually like that,' she said, holding a hand up to her forehead in embarrassment. 'That was… really out of character for me.'

'I get it all the time,' Vega lied smoothly. 'I have that effect on women. And some men, too. You'd be surprised.'

Shepard laughed. 'Oh, I don't think I would, James. You're a good looking man.'

'Don't forget charming.'

'And charming,' she agreed with a chuckle. 'Just… try not to be so charming, and I'll try to keep my hands off you, okay?'

'No promises, _chica_.'

They were facing each other with expressions forced to amicability. The tension was so binding that Vega feared he was about to break. He told himself to remain calm and just keep smiling. _Act casual. Shrug it off._ His mind rushed to bury the frustration and unhappiness and to find something useful with which to cover it. His edgy, fiddling fingers came into contact with the data drive in his pocket. He focused on it.

'I'll, uh… go run a security check on this data stick,' he suggested brightly. 'Then you can read your message, or whatever it is, from the Major.'

He was glad to get out of there. Swooping through the door that led to his sleeping quarters, he snatched hold of the wheeled chair and threw himself down onto it. His thoughts were in chaos. He felt rejected. Ashamed. His body was pent up with so many negative emotions that he almost busted the computer console in a heavy-handed attempt to activate the system. It took him a few tries before he managed to jam the data drive into the correct port. He sat back, his breathing tight and unstable, while he waited for the security scan to complete.

Shepard was busying herself in the other room. He could hear the dresser drawers being opened and closed, and then the rustle of fabric. It sounded like she was getting dressed. Vega fixed his discomforted gaze on the computer screen, fighting down the questions, the feelings, the memories of the past few minutes. He didn't want to deal with any of it. He wanted to pretend it had not happened.

The scan came to an end and confirmed that the tech was not harmful and was not carrying any hidden bugs or suspicious data. There was only one file stored on it, and it was a small memo document. It was entitled simply: "Shepard". Vega accessed it. He slouched forward in his chair as he prepared to follow protocol and read through the document in case of security breaches. He was not really in the mood, but it was preferable to going back out there and facing Shepard. The screen came up with a few paragraphs of text. Vega began to read half-heartedly.

_'Shepard,_

_'I don't know if you got my last message. Maybe you didn't reply because you were too busy with your mission, and with Cerberus. Or maybe you're still angry. Whatever the reason, I feel like I can't just let the matter go so easily. You're too special for me to give up on you.'_

Vega cocked his head at an angle and re-read the last line in confusion. Special? What did that mean? He shifted closer to the screen and continued.

_'I've changed a lot over the past couple of years. Everything has. But I keep finding that no matter who I become and where I go, there isn't a part of me that can forget you. Even when I thought you were dead, I still felt like I was waiting for you. I can't help but feel that way even now._

_We never had the chance to really talk about what happened that night before Ilos. I wrote to you before telling you how much it meant to me. You were always tough to read, Shepard, even face-to-face. But now, being separated by time and distance and so much more, I have no idea how you feel. I want to believe that it was special, that I'm not deluding myself. I want to believe that you loved me once._

_I understand if you feel betrayed or abandoned, because of how we left things on Horizon. I was hurting. I was angry. I didn't know what to think or feel, what was real. To have you returned to me safely seemed too good to be true, and the whole Cerberus thing was too much for me to ignore. I should have listened to your side of the story and given you a chance to explain, but I was scared – scared that you might not be the same woman I fell in love with. If you were sympathising with terrorists, or being controlled by Cerberus, or you were just some kind of clone… I couldn't handle that. And I was a coward. I ran away.'_

The crushing realisation of the meaning of this message hit Vega hard. Major Alenko was Shepard's only love. The man to whom she had opened her heart and who had shattered it to pieces. Her whispers in the night, with tears that refused to reach her eyes, had been for him. Her sleepless body, her sorrowful eyes, all of her bitterness and distrust. It was because of him.

_'I'm sorry, Shepard. I don't know if it means anything to you, but I'm sorry. I honestly believe that you destroyed the relay in the Bahak system because you were trying to protect all of us from the Reapers. You're a hero, and you don't deserve what has happened to you. So I want to be here, fighting for you, doing all I can to win your freedom. If we still have a chance to be together in the future, then I want to try. If you don't feel that way about me any more, then I will accept it, but I won't stop trying to help you. When we meet again someday, I hope you'll have an answer for me._

_In the meantime, please take care of yourself._

_Yours, Kaidan.'_

The final words resounded in Vega's consciousness, silencing all of the madness. He sat staring blankly at the screen for what might have been hours, with no concept of time. There were no thoughts, no emotions. It was all white noise.

When the universe finally returned to a comprehensible state, Vega closed the document, stood up, and wandered into his ensuite bathroom. He needed to process the day's events. He needed to think. Soon he would have to turn the data drive over to Shepard. She would read the message from Kaidan Alenko. Any chance Vega had with her would be obliterated. Somehow that mattered to him, even though prior to today he had not realistically considered Shepard as a potential lover. The possibility hadn't existed for long enough for the disappointment to be this deep. There was no logical reason why it should be making him feel so awful!

Fehl Prime resurfaced in his mind. His childhood. His mistakes. His bad luck. He saw all of his failed relationships and the ghosts of friends he had lost over the years. He remembered how honoured he had felt that Admiral Anderson had chosen him personally for this assignment. The joy of being useful, of mattering in the universe, of playing a part in the legend of Commander Shepard's life. And when she kissed him he had been amazed that such an incredible woman could want him.

He felt like a fool. Story of his life.


	20. Chapter 20: I'm Here

Shepard read the message. She had made no noticeable reaction upon finishing it, and had simply returned to the common area between the two rooms to resume whatever it was she had been doing.

Since then a week had passed. Anderson had come and gone, with no further intel to offer. Days and nights had drifted by in a gloomy haze. Vega and Shepard had shared barely five words. They ate, they slept, they worked at the gym without communicating, and Vega trailed her like a silent bodyguard wherever she went. No more games and laughter. No more flirting. No more of that dangerous smile and the teasing glances beneath dark lashes. She had locked herself away behind four cold walls and was not letting Vega near her.

He could tell that she was angry. But whether it was primarily at herself, at Vega, at Alenko, or at the Alliance, he didn't know. Maybe it was a blend of all of the above. Vega was angry, too, since everything had gone to hell so fast. He had no idea what was going to happen to Shepard at the trial and what would become of her afterwards. And what was he supposed to do at the end of all this? Go back to Alliance service, forgetting how the bastards in charge had hung Shepard out to dry in order to protect themselves? The hero of the galaxy would be rotting in incarceration, Vega would be sent on some do-nothing mission in the middle of nowhere, and everyone would just go back to pretending the Reapers weren't on their way to stamp out their meaningless existences. It would all be for nothing. And Vega was expected to sit back and wait for the inevitable. A pointless end to a pointless life.

He did not want it to be that way. Deep inside he still nurtured dreams of being a hero. He wanted to prove, if only to himself, that he was not the hopeless nobody that he feared he was. But his faith was waning. Had he missed his chance? Was there something he could have done differently? He wondered if there was still a way he could help Shepard. Better men were striving to do so – men such as Admiral Anderson, Major Alenko, and the Shadow Broker. What could James Vega do that they could not? When he looked at Shepard now he found himself wishing that somebody else had been given this assignment. He was convinced that she wished it, too.

But when he awoke in the night to the sound of whimpering breaths, and he saw on the security screen that Shepard had her face buried in her pillow, her tiny shoulders shuddering with the effort of muffling her sobs, Vega realised something. No matter who should be here in place of him at this moment in time,_ he_ was here. He was the only person she had beside her. He was the only one witnessing this heart-rending scene, and the only one who could do a damn thing about it.

He got up and walked through the door. In the darkness he could barely make out the shape of the Commander upon her bed. Stifled sounds of anguish and despair hovered in the night air. She was struggling to breathe with the intensity of her weeping. Vega ignored every doubt in his mind and headed straight for her. When he touched the side of the bed he knelt down on it, reached out, and pulled the slender woman into his arms.

Shepard was startled for a moment and instinctively tried to get away. But Vega pressed her firmly against his chest, one hand grasping the back of her head protectively while the other rested in the small of her back. She trembled uncontrollably. Her strength and defiance gave out. She sank into the young man's embrace and released all of the tears she had been holding back for an untold length of time. Agonising sobs racked her body so violently that Vega was afraid she was going to shatter. He held her tightly, desperately, as though he were the only thing keeping her intact. Tears saturated his shirt.

He did not speak and neither did she. They simply sat there, huddled in the darkness, while Shepard cried like a little girl. Minutes passed. Vega barely breathed. He rested his chin on her head, gazing into nothing. His fingers made almost imperceptible movements upon her hair but were never bold enough to actually stroke it. He dared not. Shepard's wet face burrowed into his chest and her hands gripped his shirt, her breath emerging in painful bursts, and her shoulders shaking. Vega wanted to say something comforting, but his mind was blank. But perhaps it was enough for her that someone was near her, that she was not alone in the dark. The unspoken permission to cry as hard as she needed to, the way that Vega told her without words that it was okay for her to do so. Perhaps it was enough.

Eventually it all began to slow. Her tense muscles relaxed. Her panicked breathing eased into a steady pace. She drifted into silence. When he was certain that the worst was over, Vega closed his eyes and waited for her to move away. It took him a few moments to notice that she was still in his arms. Uncertain and a little worried, he leaned back so that he could see her face, his eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. What he saw was Shepard sleeping peacefully in his lap.

The unexpected sight held Vega captive. She was tear-stained and puffy-cheeked, with strands of hair sticking damply to the edges of her face. Her lashes glittered with stray droplets in the slither of moonlight that was seeping in through the window. Through parted lips she breathed soft breaths, gently warming the damp area of Vega's shirt. He gazed down at her resting face and wondered to himself if any other human being had ever witnessed this before; the pure, unguarded sight of Commander Shepard with tears fresh upon her cheeks. Somehow he felt like the luckiest man alive right at this moment.

When he finally convinced himself to release her from his reluctant arms, Vega did so with the greatest of care. Slowly, tenderly, he laid her head back upon the pillow and slid away from her side. He smiled slightly as he drew the duvet over her and watched her snuggle up to it unknowingly. He inhaled deeply. Then he turned and went back to his own bed.


	21. Chapter 21: Wallowing

Shepard slept in late the following morning. It was unusual for Vega to wake and find her still sleeping, but he was glad of it. Nobody needed a long, restful night more than Commander Shepard. So he delayed making his coffee and breakfast so as not to disturb her, and instead stayed in his room. He showered, dressed, and perched himself in front of the computer to check the latest news headlines.

More infuriating lies about Shepard. More batarian unrest. There was nothing new and nothing interesting. Vega browsed the extranet out of boredom, not really looking for anything in particular. As he was scrolling through pages of time-wasting options, his gaze shifted away from the screen and fell upon the data module that was still in the port. His hand stopped over the holographic interface. He chewed his lip thoughtfully. After a moment, he sat forward in the chair and activated the keyboard, typing in: "Kaidan Alenko".

The screen filled with data, news items, links to vids, photos, quotes and more. Words such as "hero" and "courageous" littered the display, along with mention of promotions, accolades and praise from other Alliance officers. At first glance it was clear that Major Alenko was somebody he should have already heard of. Vega immediately selected a thumbnail of the Major's face and brought it up to full size, the curiosity searing through him like a blade. He just had to see the face of the man who had earned Shepard's love and admiration – and who had been stupid enough to break her heart.

The image he found staring back at him was more gut-wrenching than he had imagined. Alenko was extremely attractive, with film-star good looks and deep brown eyes. He was older than Vega, and the age suited him. Hints of lines upon his skin and a whisper of silver through his thick, glossy hair did nothing to detract from his appearance. He was practically perfect. The bastard didn't even have a scar on his pretty face. Moving on to another image, Vega found the Major dressed formally for one of his many medal presentations. He was tall, broad-shouldered, poised, muscular… He made Vega sick.

He didn't want to know more about the picture-perfect officer, but somehow he could not stop himself. He read through Alenko's biography and public Alliance profile, skimmed through pages and pages of fan drivel, viewed galleries and news interviews, and ploughed through the list of the Major's career highlights. On the vids Alenko spoke with a calm and distinguished voice, eloquent, polite. He was humble, even self-deprecating, and was visibly embarrassed when people praised him. He spoke often of Commander Shepard. The man revered her publicly, redirecting all of his success toward her whenever he was commended. Vega learned that he had served under Shepard as Staff Lieutenant aboard the first Normandy, and had been part of the ground team on some of the most epic missions in Alliance history. He was by her side when she saved Eden Prime from Saren and the geth. He was with her on Virmire, storming Saren's base and nuking the facility at great risk to his own life. He was there when she faced the turian Spectre in a last stand on the Citadel, there to see the fall of the mighty Reaper, Sovereign. He was a survivor of the destruction of the Normandy SR-1 in which Shepard had lost her life.

So this was the man to whom her heart belonged. Vega had known all along that a woman as amazing as Shepard could not love just a normal man, no more than a goddess could love a mortal. Now he knew how true that was. Kaidan Alenko was like a mythical white knight, benevolent and flawless. He was so far above Vega in every way that there could simply be no contest.

_Why are you getting so riled up about it, pendejo? _He accused himself bitterly. _It's not like you were falling for her. It's not like you ever had intentions. Nothing's changed._

But something had changed. Vega didn't understand what it was exactly, but it was there. A tight knot deep down inside him, an ache beyond his ribs, a nagging whisper at the back of his mind. Recently he had felt… different. And seeing the perfect war-hero of a man with whom Shepard had shared herself so intimately, that indescribable and merciless feeling was permanently cemented.

He was so wrapped up in self-pity that he didn't even notice that Shepard was up and about. He didn't hear her until she appeared in the doorway of his room. Vega panicked when he saw her. He frantically erased everything on his computer screen, praying she did not catch a glimpse of what he was looking at. She leaned against the door frame, rubbing her tired eyes, dressed in her sports-style sleepwear with bare feet. She had not noticed the screen at all.

'Commander,' he yelped, a nervous hand going to the back of his neck. 'You're up.'

Shepard yawned and stretched out, seemingly still half-asleep. 'I overslept,' she said.

'Yeah, uh… Well, it's not like you've got any appointments to keep or anything.'

'Mmm, I guess not.' She passed her groggy eyes over the computer. 'Oh, James, while you're on there,' she said suddenly, 'can you erase the security footage from last week? That… thing that happened?'

He frowned, confused. 'Security footage?'

'Yeah. Your console records surveillance from the other room, right?'

He had not really thought about it. The feed was displayed on a program running in the background of the computer, but Vega had always assumed it was simply a live view. It had never occurred to him that the footage was being recorded and stored. But now it seemed obvious.

His eyes widened. 'You think anybody else sees this?' he panicked. 'You think they can access the recordings?'

'I have no idea. But I think it's _probably_ a good idea if we cut out the part where I sexually assaulted the guard assigned to me…'

Vega's fingers raced across the controls in a rush to locate the incriminating video footage. Shepard came up behind him and watched over his shoulder. He called up the surveillance program. Selecting an option to review previous days' recordings, he was presented with a collection of folders listing dates and times.

'When was it?' he said to Shepard, drawing a blank.

'Wednesday,' she replied promptly. 'Around sixteen-hundred hours.'

He was surprised she knew that. He found the folder of the day in question and opened it. Scrolling down to sixteen-hundred hours, he came across a video screen thumbnail that showed him carrying Shepard into the apartment. He selected it. The video started to run.

'Don't play it!' Shepard hissed, slapping Vega across the back of the head. 'Get rid of it!'

He cancelled the playback just as he saw an image of Shepard pulling him down onto the sofa. His heart was beating rapidly. He hit delete and watched the file vanish from the folder. Shepard sagged with relief.

'Do you realise if anybody had seen that,' she sighed, 'you would have been re-assigned in a second? The last thing I want is you getting shipped off somewhere.'

Vega felt a smile pull at his face. 'You'd miss me, I know.'

'No, I'd just hate to get stuck with some hard-ass guard who wouldn't let me walk all over him.' She smirked at him.

'I'm pretty sure you could walk all over anybody, Commander.'

'Oh, I know I could,' she said with a grin. 'But it's more fun when it's with you.'

It was the first friendly exchange they had shared since the awkward incident. Vega knew it must have something to do with what happened last night. It was as if him seeing her at her most vulnerable and accepting it wordlessly had made Shepard feel comfortable with him again. He had shown her that she need not be afraid to let her guard down with him. For somebody as private and proud as Shepard, that must mean something. He imagined that she had very few friends with whom she could do that. The thought was encouraging. He had done something right for a change.

Shepard spun away from him with a smile and tiptoed towards the door. Vega watched her go. As she was about to disappear, she popped her head back inside and said:

'I feel like having a lazy day. How does movies and beer sound to you?'

Vega stared. 'At eight in the morning?'

'No, later, of course.' She gave him a conspiratory sidewards glance. 'Right now, I'm going to do something I haven't done for a long time: sleep all morning…'

Vega shook his head in bafflement as the Commander vanished into the next room. She wasn't back to normal; she had passed normal and was now in another category altogether. What was this current strange mood? She was a continual source of bewilderment to Vega. If he had thought it difficult to understand women before this, now he knew it was impossible.

He swivelled his chair back to face the computer. The surveillance records were still open. A thought came to him and he glanced guiltily at the door. Shepard was in bed – he could see her on the minimised display in the corner of the screen. He had some time to himself. And the sight of their brief passionate liaison captured on camera was stirring in his mind. He swallowed hard. Then quietly, slowly, he stood up and crept over to the door, carefully closed it, and returned to his seat. He brought up the task list and hovered over the "Undo Delete" option. He touched it.

Like a criminal in the secret corner of his lair, he restored the erased video and hunched over to watch it. He ignored the accusatory voice in his head, focusing on the screen before him. He saw himself place Shepard down on the sofa and start to draw back. He saw her face flushed with what he had previously mistaken for indignation, and her eyes lock onto him like a huntress sighting her prey. He watched without breathing as the lusty woman snatched him off of his feet and began to devour him. All of the desire and euphoria came flooding back to Vega as he relived those intense, fleeting seconds. He raised the audio volume as high as he dared, aching to hear the words that she had gasped into his ear one more time.

His hands strayed south as he lost himself in the video. His need silently cried out. His body responded. He plunged into dizzying pleasure and let all of his untended want rush forth, sating the fire that had scorched his soul. For now.


	22. Chapter 22: Fact or Fiction

'They're all new to me. I was dead for two years, so I kind of missed a lot of cinematic releases.'

'Just pick one you like the sound of. If it sucks, I'll let you know.'

Shepard ran down the list on the holo screen, reading through movie titles and synopses. She was on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, trying to decide what to watch to kick off their lazy afternoon. Vega brought over a pack of beers and pulled one out to hand to her. He took one for himself and placed the rest on the table.

'Windows, dim,' he instructed the voice-activated room control.

A dark tint washed across the glass in response, casting the room into low lighting. Vega made his way over to the opposite end of the sofa and settled himself there. He opened his beer with a pop.

'Anything good?' he inquired, looking at the screen.

Shepard was reading through a movie description. Her brow was furrowing more with each line. 'Did you know about this?' she said in disbelief.

Vega checked the title of the movie. Then he glanced over at her. 'You didn't?'

'No!' She crouched forward to get a better look, horror washing over her face. 'They made a movie about me? When I _died_?'

'Yup. It was a big hit.'

'You've seen it?'

'Sure. It's not bad, actually.'

She shuddered. 'This is really creepy,' she said, returning to the list of titles.

'Wait, you're not curious?' Vega asked her. 'You don't want to see it for yourself?'

'Put it this way: if they've got it all wrong, then it will drive me crazy. And if they've got it right, it'll be downright embarrassing.'

Vega was quite interested to see it with her. He must have watched it a dozen times before meeting her face-to-face. To get the Commander's take on it would be priceless. She would be able to tell him exactly what was fact and what was fiction, giving her own account of each dramatic scene.

'C'mon, Commander, you have to watch it,' he insisted excitedly. 'I wanna see your reaction.'

'I just told you what my reaction would be.'

'But you've got to wonder, no? Plus, how can Commander Shepard be the only human who hasn't seen the Commander Shepard flick? That's downright loco.'

Shepard tapped her fingernails on the remote control thoughtfully. She lifted it to her chin and leaned on it as her eyes roamed the screen. 'The actress who plays me…' she said after a while. 'Is she hot?'

Vega grinned. 'Hell yes.'

He was tempted to add: 'Not as hot as the real thing, though.' But he held it back.

Shepard rolled her eyes, but there was a smile forming below. She plopped back against the sofa and selected the movie. 'All right. I'll give it a go.'

He hooted in triumph and raised his drink as the screen loaded. The introduction began. Shepard opened her beer and took a swig. Behind the pre-movie credits they could see a rainy city street, dark and foreboding. They heard a baby cry. The camera zoomed in to a little bundled up grey blanket amid a pile of trash and revealed an abandoned infant within its folds. Rain pelted its pink, wailing face and soaked the blanket around it.

'That's me, I take it?' Shepard said with a raised eyebrow.

'Bingo. You sure you haven't seen this before?'

'Smart-ass.'

The baby faded and the movie flashed forward a few years. The child intended to represent Shepard was still on the dank streets of the worst part of New York, living a life of desperate crime. Scenes without dialogue showed her stealing from stores and mugging unwary citizens, scrounging for food, smoking, drinking, and experimenting with all kinds of narcotics. She associated with fellow street kids, and the sinister background music warned that these were bad people.

Vega was alight with curiosity. He kept glancing at Shepard to see if he could catch a reaction, learn something about her real past. She was expressionless. If he wanted to know, he was going to have to ask.

'Commander, you gotta say whether it's true or not. I want commentary – scene by scene!'

She pouted, and her nose wrinkled at the bridge. 'Maybe this isn't a good idea after all…' She was clearly not thrilled at the idea.

'Okay, okay,' Vega backed off so as to avoid scaring her away from the movie. 'Forget the commentary. We'll just watch.'

The movie continued with some criminal escapades, and a slightly older teenage Shepard engaging in questionable activities with seedy men. The exchange of credits afterwards told the viewer everything. Vega really wanted to know if that part was accurate or not. Had a wayward young Shepard sold her body on the streets in order to survive? But it was a very personal matter. Seeing the movie again now that he'd actually met the real Shepard, he found the prostitution scenes a little disturbing. From the look on her face it seemed that Shepard was affected by it, too. She held her beer between two hands, keeping very still and watching the screen with a tight expression. She swallowed and her throat stirred with the movement.

'People think I was a whore,' she said all of a sudden. It wasn't a question, merely a statement of fact, although it was tinged with surprise.

Vega scratched his head uncomfortably. He had thought she knew. 'Uh… That's… kinda what the bios say… Yeah.'

'You think that?' She looked at him.

'Well… I don't believe everything I hear.' He didn't really answer the question. He couldn't.

Her eyes searched his face for a few moments. It seemed as though she wasn't going to deny or affirm the accusation. She turned back to the screen.

'That's not the way it was,' she said quietly.

The movie lightened up after that. Vega was relieved. He tried to remember if there was anything else coming up that might upset Shepard. It was probably all fine from here on. Shepard met David Anderson and enlisted in the Alliance, escaped her grim life on the streets, and then the years skipped by and she was a grown woman. The actress was very attractive, sporting a glamorised version of Shepard's boyish hairstyle and figure-hugging clothes. She was airbrushed to model standard, and wore far too much make up for a soldier, but there was no denying the resemblance. Her round face, curved little nose, small mouth and large eyes, all had a Shepard-like quality to them. When the camera honed in on her black-rimmed eyes Vega saw that they were the same colour as the Commander's – a colour that he now thought of as the transition between Summer and Fall in a tranquil woodland. Vega had always found the actress appealing, but now she seemed truly beautiful.

'Pretty girl,' the Commander noted, surveying the glossy image cynically. 'Shame she doesn't look like me.'

'Are you kidding?'

'No?'

'Commander, she's the double of you. Except, y'know, taller and…' he made a cupping motion over his chest, '…bigger.'

Shepard looked at the beautiful actress and then back at Vega with a bewildered expression on her face. 'James, she's nothing like me. They gave her some hazel contacts and a frumpy black wig, dusted her skin with some pale powder, and stuck her in fatigues.' Her eyes narrowed. 'As for the "bigger" comment, I'll remind you of what you said to me not long ago: She "may have quantity, but _I've_ got quality"…'

The fake Shepard sparred with a muscle-bound military man in a fast-motion sequence that ended in her knocking him out. Not a smudge on her make up or a hair out of place, she stood proudly over the defeated soldier with her bountiful chest heaving dramatically.

The real Shepard snorted. 'Please,' she muttered in disgust. 'Women don't look that good after a round of hand-to-hand combat.'

'You getting jealous, ma'am?' Vega shot at her mockingly.

'Of myself? How's that?'

'I thought you said she was nothing like you.'

She shrugged and took a moment to drink from her can. Then she said: 'If I looked like that, I sure as hell wouldn't have become a soldier.'

Vega smiled to himself and returned his attention to the movie. He may have misjudged her level of self-esteem that night when he'd guessed she would wear dresses to show off her figure. Now it seemed that perhaps she was not as confident in her appearance as he had thought.

As the movie played on, the Shepard character became more and more ruthless. She was sharp-tongued and bitter, prone to bad moods and quick to anger. She killed in a way that suggested she enjoyed inflicting pain and death, and showed no gentle emotions at all. She tortured prisoners for information, disobeyed direct orders, dealt with criminals and lowlifes, threatened and shouted her way through life. The Commander seemed amused by this portrayal of her character, and laughed aloud on several occasions.

'No wonder everyone is afraid of me!' she exclaimed, as she witnessed her lookalike smash a chair over the head of a mouthy civilian. 'I'm a complete bitch!'

'They might have overdone it in some places,' Vega said, wincing at the sight of the protagonist taking a man in a choke hold.

'They're not too far off, actually. I've done that before.' She laughed. 'And that! Yeah, this is good…'

Vega glanced across the sofa at her. She was thoroughly enjoying the path of wanton destruction blazed by her movie self. Her eyes were sparkling with tears of mirth, and her lone dimple was showing. He liked the way she looked when she laughed.

'Ooh,' she hummed, as the on-screen Shepard was confronted by a male subordinate intent on reprimanding her. 'She's not taking any of that! You're gonna be sorry you messed with…'

She trailed off as the two characters launched into a passionate embrace. Her mouth hung open. The scene melted into a sensual display of two near-naked bodies upon a bed. A dim, rose-coloured gauze smouldered over the camera and drew languid shadows over the room. The actress playing Shepard ran her manicured nails down the back of the tanned soldier, her face contorting with pleasure beneath him. He rose and fell gracefully upon her, the silky bedsheets draped artfully over his lower body. The couple rolled, the camera panned out, and then the woman was on top. She reared up as she straddled her lover, and the viewers were given an impressive eyeful of her generous breasts.

Vega didn't know where to look. He had completely forgotten about this part of the movie. Should he make light of it and maybe crack a joke? Or initiate a diverting conversation? Should he look at Shepard? Should he keep his gaze on the screen? The love scene was fast increasing in passion and aggression, and the characters were moaning loudly, gasping, panting. It was so awkward that Vega began to wish he would just die right where he sat. He had no idea what Shepard was thinking, and he dared not try to see her expression. His ears were burning hotly as his gaze ricocheted back and forth between the screen and the floor. The woman was riding her lover furiously, crying out in waves of ecstasy. He was running his hands all over her body, grasping her buttocks, squeezing her breasts, caressing her shimmering thighs. Vega had never been this embarrassed watching a sex scene before in his entire life. He prayed for it to end.

When it finally did, the room was silent and the air was extremely warm. The movie transitioned into a peaceful scope of the stars, glimmering in the black of space like diamonds. There were a few long seconds of quiet. Vega heard Shepard suck in a deep breath.

'Damn, if this was my life, I'm sure I'd remember a night like _that_…'

He looked at her. She was grinning. Fanning herself with her hand, she gave a low whistle and added:

'Okay, I give it an extra star just for that part.'

Vega let go of his tension with a nervous laugh. He hoped the lighting was insufficient for her to see the colour of his face.

'Another piece of made up history?' he asked without thinking.

'Mmm,' she responded mysteriously. 'Wouldn't you like to know…'

_Yes._

Thankfully he didn't say it. What he actually said was:

'I don't want to spoil anything, but you better not get too attached to loverboy there. He might not make it to the end of the movie. Just saying.'

'As long as he gets his shirt off again, I won't complain.'

'Hah!' Vega leaned back in his seat and brought his enormous arms up behind his head: 'What, that scrawny kid?' he scoffed, tensing his biceps proudly.

Shepard simply laughed and went back to watching the movie. Vega lowered his arms. Picking up his beer again, he began to wonder if the script writer had known about Shepard's past with Alenko. Had the romantic sub-plot been based on that? Or was it just an attempt to sell more copies using a sexual interest? That led him to wonder about Shepard and Alenko's physical relationship. He tried not to picture it, but his raunchy imagination was running wild, fuelled by curiosity and more than a drop of envy. Had it been like the movie scene? Had Shepard been on top? Had she cried out his name in that rich, insatiable voice? Was Alenko as good as he was – or even _better_?

_Shit, if I don't stop this I'm gonna go insane…_

He had completely missed a few minutes of the movie. Resting his cold beer purposely on his lap, Vega fixed his gaze on the screen and made himself focus. The Torfan mission was approaching, and he had always enjoyed that part. Action-packed, fast, bloody, and full of explosions. The way he liked it.

On-screen Commander Shepard moved like a cheetah – lightning quick and feather light. She leapt through the air in slow-motion, raining bullets upon the batarian hordes in a tirade of magnificent destruction. Her shield sparked as enemy fire touched it, and she dove into cover like an uncoiled snake. Green blood sprayed her flawless face. She took a batarian in the eye with a well-aimed shot. Her squad followed her across the corpses and burnt out objects to the mouth of a tunnel. It was pitch black inside, and the opening was so narrow that they would have to proceed single-file.

'Dozens of life signs,' reported her loverboy soldier. 'They're massing in one group just on the other side of that tunnel.'

'Lieutenant Shepard,' another of her squad said warily, 'anyone steps foot in there, they'll get butchered. There's not enough room to manoeuvre, no place for cover, and they won't even be able to turn back.'

The camera zoomed in close on Shepard's face, focusing on her large, shining eyes. She stared into the dark hole with a determined set to her jaw. There was no need to guess what she was about to say:

'We're going in.'

Vega and Shepard watched as the squad headed into the black, only to be cut down by waiting gunmen. The movie version of Shepard ducked and rolled out of harm's way, jumped over the bodies of her fallen comrades, and made it to the end of the tunnel. She emerged in a large cave into which the remaining batarian criminals had fallen back when they had begun to lose the battle on the moon's surface. Shepard stood alone, facing the aliens, blood both red and green coating her armour, damnation in her eyes. She watched the frightened batarians throw down their weapons and raise their hands in surrender. She shook her head slowly.

'No,' she said, as the music and all background noises fell into ominous silence. 'You don't deserve mercy…'

There was no huge execution scene, no continuous fire with batarians falling to the ground in sprays of blood. There was just a close-up of Shepard's stained finger curling over the trigger of her gun. And then the screen went black.

_'Well, what about Shepard? Earth-born, but… no record of her family.'_

_'Doesn't have one. She was raised on the streets. Learned to look out for herself.'_

_'She got most of her unit killed on Torfan.'_

_'She gets the job done. No matter what.'_

_'Is that the kind of person we want protecting the galaxy?'_

_'That's the only kind of person who _can_ protect the galaxy…'_

Eden Prime. The idyllic human settlement was overrun with synthetic beings. It was bathed in fire and devastation. The Normandy SR-1 sailed into orbit through a red sky and deposited a ground team on the surface. It was a re-enactment of Shepard's first mission as Commander, years after the Torfan massacre. It played out much as it had in real life, but with one important detail missing.

'What about Saren?' said Shepard, looking to Vega expectantly.

'He's not in this.'

'Why not?'

'The official story doesn't mention Saren,' Vega explained apologetically. 'The Council don't want people to know a Spectre was involved, so they pretend like it was just the geth.'

'They can't do that! What about Sovereign? The Reaper, for god's sake!'

'Nope. Just geth.'

Shepard physically leapt out of her seat in outrage. 'What the hell!' she shouted at nobody. 'Those bastards! God-damn politicians and their bull_shit_!' She was more angry than Vega had ever seen her, and her voice was practically shaking the walls. 'What did the last Council die trying to fight? What levelled a big fucking chunk of the Citadel? What the _hell_ did my crew and I risk our lives for?'

Vega sat stunned as she screamed curses at the screen. Damn, that woman had some lungs! And she seemed to grow into a great, intimidating figure beyond her size as her rage super-heated. She filled the apartment with her fury.

_'Bastards!'_

She moved in the blink of an eye, snatching up the pack of remaining beers and casting them violently into the television. Vega jumped up just as the screen exploded, sending a gush of frothing liquid all over the area. There was a flash and then it all went dark. The only sounds were the fizzling of beer over the dying sparks of electric wiring and the ragged pull of Shepard's breath.

Seconds passed. Vega was too shocked to move. He stood in the darkness with his drink still in his hand, heart racing, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He heard Shepard swear quietly. Then she said in a calm voice:

'Windows, normal illumination.'

The tinted glass cleared gradually. Daylight seeped back into the room. Vega looked over at Shepard, who was standing with her head in her hand, eyes tightly closed. He could see her shoulders heaving as she fought to regain her temper. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but he couldn't think of anything. All he could do was stand there.

'Sorry,' whispered Shepard, breaking the silence.

Vega made a weak attempt at humour: 'I guess our movies and beer day is now gonna involve a lot more beer than movies.'

She rubbed her forehead as though she was trying to smooth out the stress lines. Her brows were knotted together tightly.

'It's just…' she began wearily. 'It's just… they've been fighting me every step of the way. I don't get it. If they knew what the Reapers were… what they're capable of… If they would just _listen_ for one damn second!' She sighed and her slender shoulders drooped in resignation. 'Nobody is ever going to prepare for this war while the Council are censoring all mention of the Reapers. I can't even guess how many millions of lives are going to be lost, just because the people in charge don't want to believe in the danger.'

'More people know about it than you think, Commander,' offered Vega helpfully. He kept his voice low, gentle. 'I knew about the Reapers because of stuff you said in interviews. You've got a lot of fans who believe it. It's not falling on deaf ears.'

'It's not enough, James,' she said sadly. 'It's not enough.'

Vega felt a swell of defiance and determination. He pointed a decisive finger at her and announced impulsively: 'I meant what I said before, Commander. Just say the word and I'll bust you out of this place so you can prep for the Reaper attack. If you can do something to stop them, I'm with you! Screw the Council, the brass – anybody who tries to stop us!'

Shepard glanced at him with clear surprise. She listened to his passionate declaration with unblinking eyes. Afterwards she smiled. Vega was confused, but it did soothe his aggression to see her face soften like that.

'Ah, James,' she said, shaking her head in wonder. The twist in her brow began to unfurl and her smile grew as she gazed at him. 'You're so sweet…'

'Sweet?' Vega back-peddled frantically. 'Hey, hey… wait,' he stammered, lifting his hands defensively. 'What about that did you translate into "sweet"? I… uh, that's… Commander, I think…'

She began to laugh. The musical sound hushed Vega and he stood scratching his head in bemusement. Shepard strolled over to him, all of her anger and frustration left behind her. She placed a warm hand on the clumsy Lieutenant's arm.

'I don't care if it embarrasses a big brute like you to hear it,' she said softly. 'You're a complete sweet-heart, and I appreciate you more than you can imagine.'

There was no response in heaven or hell that could have followed that. Vega wasn't even going to try. He stood dumbly as Shepard gave him an affectionate pat, then she turned to face the shattered television and said to him:

'We've got some cleaning to do.'


End file.
